A Writer Will Understand

For days and days
I feel
That I cannot write anymore.
My words don’t convey a meaning
That frustrates me even more.

On and on
It goes
Till this tide sweeps all over my face
Making it hard to breathe
Only then does my mind
Decide to release it all.

Back and forth
The tip of my pen
Oozes red; filling paper;
With the blood out of my veins.
And then I am at peace
After letting it all get drained.

To write, is a gift;
They say.
But I would like to convey
‘Tis more or less a curse
To live like this.

To choke on your words
Before you can finally cough them out
To know more,
Than you need to know
To look around and absorb all emotions
As if they were your own
Feel strangled with their presence
Lest you find the perfect words to release
All that you feel.

What I say,
You cannot understand
Lest you feel; and write.

What I say,
You will not understand
Lest you feel; and write.

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