She looks at me over the mic and leads off saying, “I don’t know about all of you, but I think this girl should give up psychology and start writing full time.”

I bit my tongue ‘til it bled....
Write what?
I am not a writer. Or a poet.
I do this as a hobby, and a release.
Everything I spit out is a cliché.
I write hollow and fake,
Present my pen and page for inspection…
Every poem of mine is deception.

I don’t tell her what I’m thinking…
I smile and mumble “Thank you.”
I want to say something else…
Something closer too…the Lords prayer, revised.

My Lord, from the throne in heaven,
Help me make myself a name
Lend me talent beyond measure
Deliver words along with pleasure
Give me everyday the desire to create,
Forgive me, for puking up half-hearted verse.
Poise me on the verge
Push me over to find the sense and structure
Lead me into temptation, oh Lord.
Let temptation be armed and dangerous.
I want to be devoured by the words that I cannot find.
Amen.