Writes about her life,
Writes with her heart
Writes about her strife,
And so she creates art.
Writes another verse,
A verse so preverse,
Filled with immaturity,
Insecurity and purity.
Writes words so intense,
Which do not make sense,
Writes about her rejection,
Her longing for affection.
Nothing happens like it should,
She feels unseen and misunderstood,
She feels drained, stuck in time,
And so she writes another rhyme.
Writes a poem ruled by no laws,
A verse filled with endless flaws,
Writes loose words with no connection,
Writes stanzas made of imperfection.
Every verse seems like it's screaming,
Every stanza is filled with deep meaning,
Is there anything with more beauty,
Than teenage poetry?