Maybe I have matured,
maybe I have outgrown writing stories,
maybe I have buried even the thought of creative writing
beneath the disgusting idea of education
- so utilitarian, and functional.
I grieve the loss of creativity in my head.
I used to think that it will always be around the corner,
that these skills will probably stick around.
Unfortunately, I have grown enough to realize that incrementally,
what little skills of mine shall soon leave my feeble body
before I even know it,
simply because I have forgotten to use them altogether.
I don't know where to begin from here.
I don't even know what to write next.
Sadly, I don't even know what to write for my fictional characters,
and just like me,
they are stuck in a havoc of confusion and unfinished stories.
Just like me,
they are lost in a fictitious land where there's no way forward
Just like me,
my stories stare at the vast darkness and wonder...
When?
Why?
And just like this poem...
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 6:56 AM UTC
Maybe I have matured,
maybe I have outgrown writing stories,
maybe I have buried even the thought of creative writing
beneath the disgusting idea of education
- so utilitarian, and functional.
I grieve the loss of creativity in my head.
I used to think that it will always be around the corner,
that these skills will probably stick around.
Unfortunately, I have grown enough to realize that incrementally,
what little skills of mine shall soon leave my feeble body
before I even know it,
simply because I have forgotten to use them altogether.
I don't know where to begin from here.
I don't even know what to write next.
Sadly, I don't even know what to write for my fictional characters,
and just like me,
they are stuck in a havoc of confusion and unfinished stories.
Just like me,
they are lost in a fictitious land where there's no way forward
Just like me,
my stories stare at the vast darkness and wonder...
When?
Why?
And just like this poem...
