The Art of Writing
A writer, is a breed of artist embraced; Artfully crafting tales of peril we have all faced. Easels among tools they use, a singular pallete where 26 primaries in color lie; They watch in silence waiting, to document beautifully all the wry. Admist a blinded population where mindful imagery is constrained, an artist is complimented with imaginative traits that are not restrained. Whereas, a majority of the mass unfortunately share a limited form of sight; they are incapable of knowing about their visualization's slight. Comprehensively inept is the lay-person rationale; They remained stunted in limbo, unaware of their fated morale. Dismally stuck in believing, hereto; There is none more before them than twice times thirteen in hue.
When all hope is lost, out of the darkness, artist's brings light; They salvalge the slaves who are shackled to night. Valiant are those artists who challenge their own demons of inadequacy; Surpassing self-esteem's lacking to embody t
why does falling in love really hurt?? like, i just love! why does it make me so hurt. and then, i realized...
love arrives like a storm
tearing down walls
i didn't know were there
exposing the raw
nerve endings
of my heart
it hurts
because feeling
is terrifying
but the ache
is also the proof
that i am alive
.....