Im about to commit poetic suicide
Im gonna drive into a lake of words and die a creative death
The asphyxiation of liquid paraphrases entices me
Swamped by grammatical sea creatures;
I create a piece….
Under water….
I can’t breath….
I can’t see but I wrote a piece
The struggle resembles the erratic motion of a pen on paper; arms
whaling against the resistance of the swamp
The struggles calms
My piece is complete
My creative lungs robbed of its oxygen supply; now filled with literature
My energy weakens and my body tires
The battle has ended…
Words have killed me.
Expressively excellent. Passion is oozes from your writing. Keep up the good work. (Yes, I been keeping an eye) lool
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