The Writing Slate

Boredom is my slate for creativity

Anger is my source of depression

Mix them together for my reality

I only let the world see a little

I’m sure it is enough

Every jot and tittle

To grasp a part of my lonely soul

Please don’t crumple it

And throw it into deep dark hole

Writing is good for the damaged

And for the almost perfect

A time dressing for paper, garb aged

Like David’s mania

Led to writing comfort songs

It was his insignia

Can you relate to the sorrow?

Even if some of it is self started

I will probably feel different tomorrow