Staring at a page waiting for words to come out

My hand blocking the ink from revealing my secrets


Writing in how I feel

When I can’t write I know something is deeply wrong


I live on the pages where my words are written

Visualizing my thoughts, my emotions, my demons


When my hands are stuck I can feel something right under the surface

Just far enough away to know it’s there but unable to discern what it is


I’m not ready for whatever my body is hiding

Yet my body tells me otherwise
My mind tricks me into thinking I’m ok

But the body really does keep the score


Pain, discomfort, shaking, insomnia

Signs that tell me not everything in fine


My hands are my favorite part of my body

They allow me to live my passion and feel my soul


Once everything is on paper it cannot be taken back

My words then become discoverable to people other than myself





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