I make sheets of paper covered in words that are covered in crosses. I want to write but my mind wants to edit and I realize that all I have ever done was to make these crosses over my life itself in the name of viewing life as art. I have never truly created before and all my pen is good for is making these crosses. All my life I have merely recorded thoughts and feelings and so I am lost and cannot write what I do not know or what I cannot see before me. I was never a great writer and certainly not so much as I thought. I will never be a great writer if I don't write now and abandon these crosses.
They say I am only as good as I believe and so I say I will be the best no matter the cold wind that I do not feel nor the wars which I have not fought.
The fan blows my pages and a battle against crosses has consumed my mind. I fight to keep on creating these sentences and they are about the battle but they have been crossed out.
They say I am only as good as I believe and so I say I will be the best no matter the cold wind that I do not feel nor the wars which I have not fought.
The fan blows my pages and a battle against crosses has consumed my mind. I fight to keep on creating these sentences and they are about the battle but they have been crossed out.
Jahnavi and I both loved this one! Very well written from the heart of a true writer. The crosses and the uncrossed words all reveal different shades and colors in your written tapestry.
ReplyDeleteAwesome. Concrete, vivid and powerful.
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