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.