A poem entitled the Writers Conundrum


The Writer’s Conundrum

I remember when I was only a child

And I was amazed that a simple stroke of my pen could make words

Beautiful words

Even when they were not profound of brilliant

They were beautiful

But there is a rabbit hole that comes with writing

A spiral of self-loathing

That comes from the words that get stuck in your throat

Until you choke on them

You fight and you struggle

Until you find the right word

Then comes the doubt

The voice that chastises that you could have done better

One of the most painful things for me is to walk away from a completed piece

As it is not completed it is merely abandoned

But like an addict

I keep writing

For no other reason than it is who I am

In a way every piece of writing is a failure

Because your weird little hearts thinks that it could be better

So you choke on these words

And you choke because in the end it is worth it

And even if it is not worth it

You can’t stop yourself

The words call to you

You have no choice to answer them

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