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