They tell me just to let it pour out.

Just keep writing and writing till I have nothing left to say, but what if all I have inside me is too much for anyone, even myself?

What if my words keep echoing in
the void and never find a home?

My words are an ocean held back by a self-made dam.
If I let them all out, all my defense mechanisms will crumble.

Then what?

What's left besides a whirlpool of untamed emotion?
Who will stay long enough to reach the whirlpools end?

The beautiful hole in the ocean.
Everybody wonders what's at the bottom.
Nobody cares to find out.
              
Except I do.
I want to know.


If I reach it there

                        nothing

                                   will be left.