Friday, 20 June 2014


Sometimes I feel like I am going to explode with the strength of the stories trapped inside me.
Lately I feel like I am empty and I have nothing left to give.

Inspiration still reaches me,
but it is locked away inside my heart.
I have a million things to write about,
but no idea how to start.

I can put my pen to paper,
lay my fingers on the keys.
I can force words to form,
but any reader would feel my unease.

Forced poems and stories
have no rhythm and no rhyme.
I would be writing words
that have no soul, a literary crime.

So I'll sit and wait for the words to come,
and hope that I wont wait long.
My blog has earned some tumble weeds,
this all just feels so wrong.

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