Years of nine out of ten finally got the best of me.
For weeks I lay in bed tossing in my sleep, dying to catch my breath.
So many wasted days...
To make the teacher proud of the writer I had to pretend to be.
Over and over,
I was desperately searching to find the right terms,
drowning in my ocean of mediocre ideas.
Can you still see the heart in me; does anyone but you see?