My Novel

In my mind rests a novel,

With a plot thicker than clam chowder.

Its pages are riddled with insecurities,

And littered with self-doubt.

Chapter titles mark times,

Of crisis or celebration.

Chapter 9, The Day on the Playground

They made fun of you, for

Wanting to color, rather than play sports

My mind is a complex map of streets,

With an even more confusing map of sewers.

Chapter 17, The Closet

I am tired of rotting in here, alone

Fuck having these doors locked, time to break them down!

Trapped in the dark, no longer

Its time to turn on my light.

The sewers are home to the rats,

That gnaw at my ankles, trying to reduce me

Chapter 18, Not What I thought

This place is weird, like a parking lot

At 2 am, on a Wednesday…after it rained

Residence halls, hah, more like prisons,

Living off campus should be different, right?

I can drift down the darkest of alleys,

And end up in the brightest meadow.

But the meadows are home to the bees,

That sting my eyes blinding me from peace.

Welcome to the mad house,

Where nobody can save me,

Because crazy, looks good on me.