I want to write,
Yet no words are coming out of me,
It's as if my world became mute
And my ears became deaf-
Of the ideas inside my head.
One day, I just can't write anymore,
That day, I was no longer a writer-
For the words that were meant to be written,
Just left and never returned.
They say a writer should write with passion,
A writer should have courage
And a writer should know how to sew beautiful words.
And maybe, that's the reason why I can't write anymore-
For I was not passionate and courageous enough,
To sew beautiful words,
For everything transforms to tragedy.
They say writing will set you free-
But being a writer
Ends up draining me.
YOU ARE READING
Always on the 13th Hour
PoetryThis is a collection of prose and poetry, and a bunch of thoughts that keeps me awake every night. This is all about what goes on every 13th hour... if that hour even exists.
