Such a shame it is,

To be a writer.

We feed on sorrow and pain

We romanticize the tragedy

And live off on the agony

Angst is what fuels our days

Love is something we love to illustrate

Through magical words

Which are written in calligraphy across pages

Heartbreaks become our muse

Lover’s betrayal becomes our passion

We claim to devote our time to writing

When the truth is that we are constantly just fighting!

Living in a mental battlefield

Where the conflicting thoughts

Trigger our rage and grief.