I feel like I have lost my words. Once they flowed so easily Time has ripped my mind from the flow of my mouth. I fell in love with a someone else's soulmate. I became selfish and jealous and pushed myself to a point that my words became useless. When you choose emotions over words instead of bringing the two together you create a self destructing version of yourself that lives on the outside while the true version of yourself watches on the inside. Hiding writing is the hardest thing I chose to do with my life I would look around at creation and say to myself, 'that's nice.' Only my insides are screaming, 'describe it! write it down!' Or something dark would encompass my being and instead of fighting with a pen, I cowered, crumbling. I allowed myself to be swallowed, digested, and even parts left behind, scattered around a crime scene where my words made a difference Instead I chose a cowards way, pretending I was incompetent And my words slowly dwindled down as short as I could possibly make them. One day, I saw a baby chicken have a seizure, and I started to cry. And as my tears flowed, I thought to myself how would that chicken describe me ? It seems extremely odd I know, but in that moment I couldn't think of a single word. My lungs tightened as I continued to hold this now lifeless creature.