I find i write in drips and draps. I remember when I wrote like thunder and my words would lash and simmer and bring the world to its knees.
Now i am left with bricks and mortar and empty pictures hearing only the echos if a storm.
I feel as if i am a reflection of a reflection, that i am a copy of somebody before me and unexciting as a blank page.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
I find i write in drips and draps. I remember when I wrote like thunder and my words would lash and simmer and bring the world to its knees.
Now i am left with bricks and mortar and empty pictures hearing only the echos if a storm.
I feel as if i am a reflection of a reflection, that i am a copy of somebody before me and unexciting as a blank page.
