Words are a fickle thing.
They claim those faint of heart,
Destroying those heathenish men,
Who dare try to control the world
Through the power of words.
Those who try are instantly conquered
By the omniscient dictionary,
Destroyed by their constant use of a thesaurus,
And taken over by attempting mimicking another man’s voice,
Instead of trying to find their own.

They fail because they write for the wrong reasons.
They fail because of their selfishness.
They fail because they want fame.
They fail because their words are…
Lifeless….
Hopeless...
Stubborn…
Their words refuse to conform to their ideas.
Their words punish their minds with sleepless nights,
Over their horrid word choice.
Crush their dreams with metaphor upon metaphor.
Win over their imaginations by continuous simile stacking.
Imagine if you would,
Attempting to perform heart surgery,
With a sledge hammer,
While a hungry lion is in the room,
And you’re in your underpants.
That is the challenge that these miserly men face
When they sit at their desks, with their pens twirling,
And their minds racing, asking why their characters
Are like puppets with no puppeteer.
Why their poems have no reason.
Why their words truly have no power.

When you write, think not about what you want to accomplish.
Don’t think about what will make people stir.
Think about what you feel.
Feel your heart pound and your soul quake.
When your words make you want to dance,
That’s when you know that you wrote something worthwhile.
Because it made sense to you, someone else will feel it.
Someone else will know exactly what you mean.
Always remember that your first draft comes from the heart.