Rough Draft Disposed

Diversified, she sat upon the page a tiny dot of incoherence brushed into the ink She wondered how she got so small and stretched to reach an "A", the brink which started the sentence of her life, a thousand words to hide away. While she studied the paper rift she noticed the fibrous weave of every white of every letter to chalky dust inhaled to breathe She split herself into twenty times two and walked the page a struggle So tired and broken of breath and lung she scattered and sunk to ink to sleep, to weep, to wallow and keep every thought that she dared yet to think And while the wind caught up the page and settled it into a pond she gathered herself in her incoherence and wrote herself into beyond.