Staring right in to this
paper for days. I thought I had
lost my ability to write.
My ability to express.
A gift that I took for granted.
My feelings were just trapped
inside the cage and needed
to escape and soar high.
I couldn't bring myself to write
and the thoughts wouldn't
find words to breathe.
There was a thirst. An
aeonian ache. Heavy pounding
of my heart and an uneasy feeling
like my lungs had bronchitis.
My body unsupported the idea
of writing as I could only
write tragedies and the perpetual
pain of my once upon a time
virtuous heart. How could
I cheat on words? They had
always been there for me.
Most importantly there when
I had slit my malevolent heart
and given up.