
nothing
nothing
i feel the need to write, but my mind is as blank as a midnight highway
the steam rises up from the asphalt like the words floating right out of my brain
if i had artistic talent, it would be so much easier for me to express myself
the words just do not come easy to me anymore
the words escape me like a little furry mouse running for it’s life away from the cat chasing it
i sit down to write and even though my heart bleeds, my fingers are still
if i could photograph my thoughts and make them into a book, i would
i would bind it with hemp rope and number the pages and put a little heading of two words atop each page, so that i could easily express what is going on in my head
truth
the truth is, i am afraid to write
i am still so afraid to write about what i really want to express
i am afraid of judgement
i don’t want fingers pointing at me, like kids on a playground making fun of their classmate
i want to feel free enough to write about everything inside my soul before i burst like an overfilled balloon
instead i sit here and write about the fact i have nothing to write about
