Writing a poem. Is like letting the. Cracked-out little voice inside.
Win.
It's spilling out the. Guts inside your soul and. Wishing god I'm wishing. For someone to acknowledge.
You.
That thing. Deep deep deep
Down inside you. The thing you. Want so badly to divulge. Let.
Go.
It's time. To let this be finished. That voice needs to be.
Silenced.
Or.
Given a piece of paper