Falling, falling,
down, down.
I have to change.
I can't afford to lose.
This is my chance to make it right.
I'm the one with the book,
this story is mine to be written.
But I never seem to be able,
to stay inside the lines.

And I rip it apart.
Page by page.
The ink never sticks,
and the rain makes it all a blur.

I can't understand,
and the language is unknown.
I despise the book,
and I blame the writer.
Must have been an awful one.

- Jessica Lundholm