Rants of Brevity #6


It wasn’t supposed to like this. Words weren’t meant to enslave me. Despite, all of my efforts, I am still became a victim. Chained and beaten restlessly by the quill, while the inkwell watched with devilish smirk on her face. Uncontrollably, I write, read, and absorb their twisted bidding. I shiver and shake, as their rapture seeps in the recesses of my soul. Churning and churning until it replaces me. Leaving only memories of who I was before. Licking my lips, savoring the essence of who I am now.  Never knowing, whether our message will be hissed, roared, or whispered. Knowing only it must be told. Told before it shallows me whole. Told before I burst into the nothingness of defeat.  Yes, yes, yes …. this is the torment of a writer 

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