Writing is hurting a little.
Letting that piece of you fly by,
be carried away by the wind,
to spark some fire elsewhere.
Ashes and smoke left behind
Bring memories of burned
pain and fear
laugh and joy
lightness and darkness;
To write is to hurt a little.
Hurt inside and outside
a smell that reminds you
of a past you wanted to have been
and a future you will never create;
You hurt when you write.
As words come out
pages get filled,
blank is marked with ink,
(it may be) good hurt
pain that leads far
makes emptiness full;
Dont worry, you hurt.
Writing follows
without stopping
saying something suffocated
by ancient pain you were avoiding.