There are days when creativity flows

Through my veins,

Breathing life to my soul,

Reviving the enthusiasm

Stifled by the “life”

That is not living,

Heartbeats wasted on the mundane

And habitual pain of forced expectations,

Drowning my spirit,

Slowly suppressing the passion

God gifted me with at birth

In exchange for that so-called comfort

We’re all meant to strive for;

Because naturally the wealth in our pockets

Is more important than the enrichment of our souls.


My heart aches,

Beating happily

And thundering like drums,

Celebrating the rise and fall

Of each pen stroke,

Encouraging it to flow across

The page like a raging river

In fear that slowing

Will remove the flavor of beauty

From my taste buds

Once more.

Image from Google

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