Hm.
A thought.
Something resting upon the brink of something bigger,
That melts away into oblivion.

My writing once flowed like fresh tears chasing each other down blotchy cheeks, unspeakable sorrow etched in the shadows of smile lines.

Words once arose at my every beckon, like a puppy to its owner.

Once, I could sit down and dream, my adolescent imagination trickling into paper and ink.

Once, these hands breathed life into a keyboard, stories and scenes dripping from my very skin.

Now my visions cling like clammy palms wiped on satin dresses, drops of sweat sticking stubbornly to flesh as ideas do to my fingertips.

What I would give to wield that power once more.

I do not yet know why I'm sad
Perhaps life's been a little too long
Perhaps a little too short
Perhaps a little bit empty
Perhaps a little too full

I just know that when the heart aches
I need to write, I need to embrace life
I need to live it with everything it takes
And somehow I'm all too aware
That nothing at all lasts forever

To the misery and the unbearable losses
To the days of hysterical laugher
To the paranoia that haunts me still
To the calming waves of a violent ocean
Everything ends at the shores

What is it to be brave, to be courageous
To stand tall in the face of fear and know
That you might die, but you won't live anyway
The night may be dark and uncertainties may lurk
I might not make it through the night but the sun will rise

Can I still smile, laugh even, just for a while
In the midst of this torment, can I fake a life
I might go silent from time to time
I might sit all alone, as the wind have me in shivers
Write my heart out and then burn it to ashes

And as the fire dies down, I'll write a bit faster
The heartache takes away with it my words
And I always struggle, just to be devastated
For a little while longer, just till I get rid of this trash
But just as always, nothing indeed lasts forever!

I can't write
I actually physically can't
OK
OK how about, something with flowers
Not like that's been done 1000000000 times
I swear to god anymore similes and I will

punch

my

own

esophagus

This is terrible
OK ummm
Fish tanks?
Fish tanks aren't all that poetic
I can't think of anything
I think I'm dried up
Like an empty...
Fish tank
******
Wait a minute
What if I just write something about
Not knowing what to write
That would be easy
It also explains why this *****
******

In order to expose my heart and truly write,
I must release my status or my pride,
this is not about me,
it was never meant to be a way to gain recognition,
another way for me to perform on a stage, some sort of exhibition.
Yet I find myself hesitating to write my thoughts,
trying to impress people I don't even know,
It was only meant to be an outlet a therapy for me, never some sort of show,
but like everything I have ever done somehow Id rather waste my time trying to impress. My guilty conscience driving me to be truly under duress. Forced to hold back the leanings of my heart I merely release a fluffy worthless shallow piece. I will not be stifled, held down by my need to please, my ribs will not rupture under this pressure as I try to breathe. I must write with heart and soul or not at all.
So this is my open message to you pride, no matter how many times I fool myself into putting on your mask, I promise, your control over me will not last.
I will take you off just as quickly as I put you on because I want someone who reads these to truly see me. To see me with all of my scars misfortunes and faith, I will put my heart out, I will never aspire to be fake.