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!