The day I went quiet,
quietly I realized,
I would scream on paper.
So I read and read and read,
Then in blue ink, my feelings bled,
Making marks, precise like a laser.
My feelings ran their course,
Scattered chaotic and wild,
like the forces of nature.
This doesn't rhyme, that's too cliché.
If my feelings can't get through,
Am I a failure?