The Writer

The writer sits
And cuts in deep
Moving her pen
Along the white sheet

The sheet that’s pale
And worn and frayed
That’s worn with hate
And love, tears sprayed

She has mix feelings
About what she sees
What she is writing
And what she believes

But she won’t give in
To life and she hopes
She uses her way
To pull through: she copes

Her pain can’t be seen
But her writing is heard
To continue her story
She scratches one more word

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