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Frankie Licausi Poem
I don't know what to write about or what to say. My hand, tired. Me, distracted. My thoughts, scattered. Thinking is pressure. “Just write,” Teacher says. Too much pressure. What if I get in trouble? But I'm accomplishing the task, writing. My hand hurts. No sign of stopping. This is torture. My hand is going to fall off. It's cramping. I'm not doing this right. I'm confused, lost, pressured. I don't know what to write about. I'm going to stop. Hopefully I don't get in trouble, but I have no choice. My hand hurts, and I don't know what to write about.
Copyright © Frankie Licausi | Year Posted 2016
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