I knew a girl that wrote until all of the words floated around her. With pencils and paper she scribbled until she ran out of things to write on. The words would surround her like a shelter. She’d move the words around the way she liked, pulled a couple skyscrapers off the shelf, plucked some frozens out of the curtains, I’ve even seen some silence fly by the window. Then one day she showed up to school with a but in her hair.
That was the last time she raised hell with her words.
At least for a little while anyway.
Free Write 