clay

Writing down words

Then shaping like clay

Until they convey

What I want them to say

Some days it easy

Some days it a trick

and it makes me feel sick

in the head: lunatic

Some days I can’t do it

can’t find the right shape

my mind hangs agape

my words all escape

Some land on the paper

but they’re random and few

what they say isn’t true

so for that day I am through