Rejection.

We writers

Open our souls

To the whole world

To see and to judge

What we labor to bring forth.

Sometimes it’s spectacular, inspired, or even divine;

Other times, it’s nothing but garbage

Wasting good ink and paper.

Or worse, merely average.

Running in circles

Saying nothing

Important.

Note: This one came to me late at night. If there’s a name for this poetic form (with word count increasing by one on lines 1-7, then decreasing back to one), somebody please let me know!