Seasons

Hide behind the truth
Let the moments of your hope
Fall into nothingness.

Introvert.

Not good enough.
How I write and write and write only
to have nothing to show.
A folder on my laptop
labelled writing portfolio

Truth is none of it is good enough.
I am trapped by the beginning-
the end refuses to surface.

No rhyme scheme.
No source of happiness.
Only the shadowed death
of this hope of new beginnings

A chameleon that wants to stay
one color.
One being.
The seasons change
and so does her skin.