World My Own
I want to write but I don’t know what. The need pricks at the back of my eyes, the words clog my chest, pressing hard in an attempt to escape the confines of my worn out soul.
The only way to stop it is to put pen to paper and write. To let the words flow and halt the raging silences that threatens to drown all life. To let the pain and fear and anxiety flow away and unburden my heart, even if only for a moment.
To stop wallowing in the worlds pain, in my own fears, to escape the anguish of caring, I will write.
I will write because with words, another world is built. Painted in ink, birthed in the imagination, however