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