For day 28 of NaPoWriMo, we are writing meta-poems, or poems about poetry. 

This pen spills ink because there’s an ache in me:

Words dance together and bump into, knock on

The door on the inside of my mind, waiting

Impatiently, wanting more room to be set free.


Finally, they are able to burst through the door,

Formed like Athena through the head of Zeus,

Not so gloriously, but a sign that I’m fighting.

One thought on “Brainchild

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