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The Process
May 15, 2016
No one ever sees.
No one sees the work.
No one sees all of my wasted thoughts.
All of the time I spent,
The endless typing and deleting,
The nonstop self-contradiction,
The feeling of my brain about to explode.
One 11 inch tall, 8.5 inch wide piece of paper contains all of this.
All they see is the product,
Sitting on the table,
Waiting to be read.
The process, nowhere to be found.
© Michael H., Mildford, CT
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This poem captures the emotions of writing poetry and I hope people can relate.