
This blank frustration renders me still
Forcing words down against my will
People think being able to write is a heavenly gift
It’s also a burden often difficult to lift
It’s more than just verbs coupled with nouns
It is a tapping of veins in letting stories flow out
False lives are born from the sparks in your mind
Connected through ink they make escapes from your life
A rambling of concepts that sometimes make sense
Coherent in structure in its formidable dense
Its all an illusion making such tales as easily rendered
The truth being that writing can be a torturous splendor
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Written for Fandango’s FOWC – Coherent

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