Each letter coming together to make—
But the human eyes flit across the page,
Maybe one word soaked in.
One among hundreds that sit neatly next to one another.
Only the select few get chosen,
Get appraise and recognition.
Each session I’m just sitting here writing- no typing words,
nonsense that may form into readable material or
a pile of scraps for the trash.
Flicker. Dim. Blow.
Each breathe gives way to a few more lines, even pages.
Just a page, wait, nothing useful.
Each cycle of sun and moon gets harder to track.
Six pages in one day or six pages in ten?
Seven pages gone— not good enough.
Nothing can make the flames stand tall.
Each tear shed is never seen but
the force causes the flame to shrink.
Drip. Flick. Drop. Fizzle.
By: Erin Winans
I’ve been struggling a lot with motivating myself and I can feel my passion leaving me. But, I don’t want to lose it. Sometimes it’s hard because I won’t write for days, but then feel the burning need and inspiration itching to get out. I’m letting it out now.
Somedays may be hard, but writing is what I love and I can’t give up on it now. I won’t let myself get in the way of what I know I can achieve if I push myself.