Saturday, August 1, 2009

A Poem of Words

They slither through my fingers
Treacherous, friendly, they bite me
I push them in order in sentences
Angry, disgruntled they fight me

Some say its easy to write
They should feel a word's bite
The sting in a critical comment
It fucking mental torment
(But needed, much)

I have stared at empty screen for days
From January till many Mays
Till the words trickled like blood drops
Breathing red in my dying hopes

It has been a tough ride so far
I've been crawling without a car
I'm afraid now, standing at the crossroad
Am i strong enough to take a writer's load?

No comments:

Post a Comment