The extremes are working in my favour today. A condolence, to the passing time; a moment trapped in a second. The alphabets are confused, yet they speak for themselves. Then there are emotions. My feelings flooding the gates of my well being. A metamorphosis. An evolution.
Most of life is tied to an emotion- to a span, feeble. A moment of indecisiveness.
Here are my attempts, to write something, out of my emotions, out of the context. The heaviness of camouflage. To be something I am not. To write without feeling, failing, at being a writer. My pen struck with tragedy. There is no limit, to trying. If writing only when you are loved or falling apart, is art. Then what is this?
I’m finding it hard to write these days. There’s too much going on so there’s not enough time to check my phone or read your wonderful works. I’ll try to get back here slowly. Happy blogging you all ♡
© 2023 mermaidspen