Poetry has seemed to curl up and die inside of me
When a part of me is broken it is so simple to "put words together beautifully"
Now that life is going well it seems as if poetry has disappear
As if the words no longer flow from my fingertips
I have never been a good writer, maybe I have never been a writer at all
My writing is average but it will never bring tears to one's eyes or change a part of someone's life
I desire to so swiftly and gracefully string words into beautiful phrases but its inadequacy is quite haunting
Music is in my veins, it flows through every fiber of my being but does writing even hold a candle to this symphony?
Will I ever write something meaningful?
Writing is relief
Writing is escape
But is my writing impacting?
I don't believe it is so maybe I should just put my pen down for good
I am not a writer
Some are born with the curse/blessing of having to get words out and their words move in the hearts others and cause tears to well up in the eyes of people but my writing, all my writing is is a sad joke compared to true writers
So maybe it is finally time to cap my pen and never pick it up again