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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