Some Thoughts on My Own Writing

Born out of oppression
is a kind of poetic confession
that I cannot recreate
but resonates in my head.
My suicide idol, beautifully depressed,
my attempts pale and my words fail to impress.
Still...
I am slave to these thoughts,
annoyingly chained to my ordinary pen.
Every now and then
a tiny miracle bleeds through the ink.
But mainly I'm just scribbling out useless
and angst-ridden poems--
the kind born out of teenaged girls
who pass notes in the hall.