Promise me you won’t laugh at me When I get the assignment wrong They tell me this and tell me that But I rarely join the throng.

The sorts of things I care about The kinds of things I dream Don’t fit inside a storyline: I stitch a jagged seam.

I tie them all up at the end Whether or not they rhyme You’ll get no flash or style from me Just what’s in my mind.

So when this app a tale demands To keep up my writing streak I hope my poems will be okay And you will not think me weak For choosing the road that I love best And that you won’t laugh at me.