With heavy feet, I tread
Forcing myself to my bed
I lay on my back
Breath in and out
Attempting not to focus on what I lack

Is it the brains, the brawn?
The moves, the song?
I'm average at most everything
Except writing
That is my everything

When I'm alone and the rain hits my window
I open my journal and just let the words flow
My heart opens up
Holds back nothing
Telling stories and watching as the plot builds up

Then I stop
My pencil falls from the bed I am atop
I leave the story alive
My journal stays, the pencil lays
And me, unwilling to say goodbye