My crappy poetry

I am really self conscious about words that I create. I know the poetry is absolute ** and I know that I'm the only one that will read it and feel anything strong by it due to the fact that I read based upon the memory of the time- but I feel so sad that I could never move anyone with my words. I stutter and have trouble talking when I am agitated. No one has made fun of me yet, but my aunt has the same problem and had to quit her job because of it. Here is this week's crappy poetry corner, for your entertainment:

The Week Before My Period::

Helpless
so helpless

hunched in grief, head in hands.

scratchy

weeping, keening, gritting teeth

abject frustration

Relief; the pen is put to paper

Helpless
so helpless

defenseless, useless, spineless.

Less is More.