Tragedy of a Writer.

Sometimes when I write,

I feel my mind cluttering with ideas.

An idea veers to the side

And other more swerve to the other side

Appear, disappear and reappear, often at times.

Then I get that difficulty in putting my ideas into words,

Obscuring, then, my train of thought

Into a distorted incoherent pattern of banister

Sometimes when I write,

I feel a suppressed emotion.

If it’s a cheery thought,

I submerge into a day dream and smiles.

Most of the time though,

Its pity and frustration.

I feel anxious to cry.

As if my chest is to force a detonation

and tears are to burst out

but for no reason, they can't.

It's a painful feeling when I write sometimes.

Then I think and deliberate,

Either to continue writing

Or abort this pursuit and affair

And just scuttle along

Neglect all previous thought.

Once, I dared to write

And break free from my dithering self.

Again, I obscured the thoughts

And blurted it as if to speak bluntly

Not minding whether the reader will react 

Or not feel the appetite for my words.

Another time,

I neglected the thoughts

And decided to just write it down later.

But the pain twinge even more.

It hurt that I can't recall the idea and had just let it go

So I write though it’s painful.

I'm not the best of the writers,

I only speak out what's on my mind

Without flowery metaphors,

No coherence nor rhyming words

if ever, with hopeful heart,

it would make sense.

If not now, then in next to no time.

Still I write and blaze my thoughts.

Here, I write.