Time appears to be infinite
when my pencil scratches across the paper
line after line
I erase the mistakes
I keep going
I cannot give up, not this
My heart and my emotion are here,
explained in a way that talking cannot do
I write because when everything else stops making sense…
Writing does
Writing formulates what my subconscious understands,
it contradicts what I think I know
Writing is wholesome
It is mysterious yet so obvious that sometimes it pains me
It is simple yet complex in the same sentence
It states one thing and yet means an entirely different thing
Writing is forgiving and understanding,
yet so harsh that it takes the writer by surprise
Writing is the gray area
It is not black nor white,
it does not take sides nor does it pretend to be anything than what it is
Writing is writing
Writing is beautiful