I'm going to do the world a favor and not write anymore

I'm going to do you a favor and not fight anymore

I'm going to do me a favor and not feel trite anymore

I lied...

Anticipating the dawn with irrational dread
She keeps her eyes at her feet and her dreams even lower
Stars fade to mist and the moon escapes the eye
The sun demands attention
It will not be denied
She looks up

Day in and day out
I write the same old story
It could only be one thing
A writer's purgatory
Can't get past one freaking word
Absolutely absurd
And the outcome is usually gory

I'm the blonde black sheep
In a family of five
And the secrets I keep
Are what's kept us alive

You know what they want right?
Just another young girl in a dress too tight
Thin as a rail, with long flowing hair
Smile on her face, like she has not a care
Shoes she can't walk in, no man would try
Face so frozen by Botox, she can't even cry
And if she sticks to her part, she might do just fine
If she's willing to *****, she can actually dine
They'll chew up her soul and spit out the rest
Wouldn't you know, they took the part she liked best
But that's okay, anything to be a star
Anything that is, except being who you are

I've been feeling quite prolific
Since not caring if you can read my hieroglyphics
Cuz I don't think like a poet
Not sure I write like one either
And if I was forced to be both
I'd rather be neither