My Writing

My writing is shit, in a pit of mass words and antonyms,
I bleed the words, drop by drop, but cant find an audience to relieve my sins.
My writing is not perfect, flawed and flayed with cliches and over used words,
Attempting to recreate the life I dreamed of is my ultimate nightmare, its all for the birds.
Yet, some how I wrote this little poem, for the whole world to see that I am still writing on the empty pages, oh the humanity,
Yet I fear if I continue to write in such a state I may not be here at my home or at this desk, but locked away in my utter insanity.