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


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






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