top of page

Hyena's

Much like how women

can be so cruel

to other women

that threaten them,

writers are similar.

We are cannibals,

who devour each other,

liking our lips

after eating

a fellow writer.


We put our heart and soul

into our work,

and its get munched on,

and spat out,

by a hungry hyena,

who calls himself or herself a writer.


We should expect this,

we put all of ourselves out there

to be shot down

by anyone with an opinion.


They’ll tell us

that if we don’t like it,

that we need to get better

or

to get thicker skin.


Fair enough,

just don’t hate me,

when I eat you too.


-C.H,

 
 
 

Recent Posts

See All
He Still Lives

He still lives. I thought I had killed him. But here he is again. I wonder . . . is he immortal? And, if I can’t kill him, who the hell can? He lingers still. How? How?! Why? Maybe there is somethin

 
 
 
The Mountain Moved

The mountain moved! I swear the mountain across the river moved! You see, I asked for it to. It was blocking my view of the sunset. So I closed my eyes, and in my mind, I kindly asked the mountain to

 
 
 
Behind Her Eyelids

A nightmare fluttered behind her eyelids. She was naked and her ankle was chained to an anchor. The current raged against her. She swam and swam and swam going nowhere. The sea was cold; the sky was

 
 
 

Comments


Post: Blog2_Post

©2021 by Clintwritingshit. Proudly created with Wix.com

bottom of page