Writing is a Prison

I dropped my pen in the ocean
Wishing also that these feelings will die
I watched it travel down
Deep down to the bottom of the waters
“Rest in peace,”
I murmured

The ocean seems to be doing more of good today
I watch my papers get destroyed
My works, I saw them floating
To the far end of the waters
Writing is a disease
Hopefully we won’t get to see again
Bye bye,
I waved

I am retired now
The show is over
Curtains are closed
At the ocean yesterday
I took a bow
Thanked them all that read for always reading
Writing is a disease
Hopefully I’m cured now

My pen is gone
My book destroyed
My works drowned
Freedom is near
I could feel its sizzling breeze
Threw me into a placated mood
Good night writing

Night was peaceful
The day broke
I thought writing and I was done
I woke up with a written poem
There was no pen nor paper
My brain was writing on my mind
Everything my eyes saw was a story
And when my eyes are shut
I saw a movie

Oh no!
Not again
I could see my words
But this time I couldn’t touch them
The writing is within
Beyond what hands can destroy
It was then I realized
The pen and papers were not the writing
The writing is a soul
Attached to my life
The writing is a prison
And I was sentenced for life

Why not share?

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