Rough Draft

Oh, that’s a good line.

No. Now that I think of it,

it’s not. Oh, wait! I’m on to

something here.

Actually, I’m not. Finally,

something

I can work with. Eh –

not good enough.

Man, this is tough.

I can’t make this stuff

^up.

Red lines cut through

words and phrases like

a chef’s knife ^slicing

ripe fruit. Crossed out:

crumpled and tossed

to the side.

Balls of paper fill a innocent

trashcan. A ^pile is forming.

My. train. of. thought.

has gone

off

the rails. Smoke billows

out an engine running on

fumes. My pen

has wasted ink …

or so I think. It can’t be that

bad. Why am I hard on myself?

Why must I toss ^out my work

in progress? Afterall, it’s just a

rough draft. Like this poem,

I can’t judge what’s unfinished.

There’s no point in throwing

away what will one day

become a beautiful

piece of art. These negative

thoughts need to be [blocked].

We are all a work in progress.

Nothing is perfect,

and

that’s okay. What matters is

that we continue to create.

Each day

is a rough draft

constantly

revised.

One day, when we die,

the draft will be finalized,

yet our work will

stay alive.