Letters pour onto the page

Sometimes complex, simple, lame

Genuine none the less

I was never trained

My structure is a mess

I’m relentless

That’s what sees me through

My lines are like a tempest

The endless, howling doom

It leaves my surface bare

Nothing remains hidden once the wind has said its share

I’m careless in the face of open judgement

If you can’t stand this misery, go find what you call “substance”