POSTED: 03 Sep 2022 16:39
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If only my brain worked at my pace
Could start what it can finish.
And finish what it starts.
But there is a barrier in front of my face.
This barrier is a block, a dam, a wall
I'm head-deep in my thoughts
Yet they never come out
And if I try to climg this wall, I will fall
I wish I knew how break it, burn it down
This wall wasn't made by man
It isn't breakable by force
My brain made it, to keep me from burning out?
Or because I already did?
My hands are made to create beauty, art
I write what I see inside me
And create what makes me happy
Yet it isn't made to be beauty, it sets me apart
I don't want to make a masterpiece
I want to make a story
My own little world
What I make distracts me, gives me peace
I fixate on things too small.
No movement is made.
Some stories start to stall
It's something I hate
To abandon a story
To leave it behind
But it won't be much, sorry
It's not what I had in mind
Got out of writers block!
I'm going to be temporarily pushing The Dinner aside, I can't think of where it can go atm.
I will focus on my poetry and possibly other shorter stories.
Sorry to fans of The Dinner, but it may be picked back up, all hope is not lost!
04 Sep 2022 02:43
05 Sep 2022 04:03
In reply to crocodile
03 Sep 2022 18:58
05 Sep 2022 03:47
In reply to DCTheGamr
08 Sep 2022 12:22
In reply to cdog3789
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