Why Not?
    by Erica Lyons

How can I get rid of the pain?
Why do I care so much what they think?
Why do I long for their approval;
Why do I long for fame?
And sometimes I feel like writing with my blood,
Just like ink.

And in my dreams I really do,
And I feel comfort watching my blood spew.
But then it rids me of the feeling yes,
But also of all that’s true,
So I draw out my needle,
And stitch myself together again.
And for the time being, I’ll put away my pen.