When in fear, she writes

Of all things that scares her

When in joy, she writes

Of all things that brings happiness to her life

When in sadness she writes

Of all things that made her feel like everything’s falling apart

When in anger, she writes

Of all things that she pent up, bottled up feelings she couldn’t express

She ought to be poetic, of what she writes

But then she became poetically lost,

And that’s not quite right