Even now, even if I keep what is written to myself, I cannot help but hold back.
It is all I've ever done, all I've ever known.
Symphonies in my mind,
entire stories, movies unable to be unleashed.
Masterpieces longing to break free.
All stuck, trapped in my head.
Scared to admit what lies and hides inside me to the world and myself.
Enveloped in a blanket of numbness, the fiery passion dwindling.
You being my inspiration,
But lacking the will and strength to write.