The Truth About Writing


I am a writer
For I live between worlds
And my fingers slightly ache from the stories I must tell.

There is ink in my blood and words on my brain;
Once I begin to write
I'm never quite the same.
I leave a piece of me in my stories;
I gain something too,
For with these words I create myself something new.

The words leave my fingers
Without talking to my brain
For they simply want to be recorded with an ink stain.

Now here's a simple truth
That non-writers just don't know:
I don't create the words,
They simply seem to flow.
And if you try to stop them,
Good luck, because you can't.
You must simply let them
Lead you in their dance.

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