what you don’t know about writers
is that when we write we put on a cloak of thorns
we set ourselves on fire and give ourselves burns
we let ourselves drown in an ocean of pain
just to be able to let go of our thoughts again
you can’t imagine all the wars we lost
and the number of people it cost

what you don’t know about writers
is that we blame ourselves when people leave
that’s when we write, while others grieve
we put on masks to hide the fact
that our so-called strength is all an act

our pens are double-edged swords
little do you know the heartache caused by our words

the ink from a writer’s pen stains their heart
but they’ll swear that it’s all for art