Stretched
Sketched on a napkin
Frizzy hair and a stressed face
Her pencil is like her tongue
Rushing to keep pace
With an ever expanding mind
And waist
Ideas once lost are hard to find
She supposes she could stop
Though she's never tried
She thinks, and dreams, and sighs
All those tears she cried
Have dried as ink smudges
Her smiles become doodles that are all tie-died
Crop top
Wearing
Rearing
Gearing
Characture of her true self
Colorful cartoon
With all the speech balloons whited out
She'll start again once she burns the rough draft
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