I used to write. I used to note down what I felt. And it would rhyme. I’d end up with a few verses to call my own. My poetry. But I used to.
I don’t anymore.
I feel a lot. But I write none. I haven’t run out of words; words have run out of me.
What’s worse, tell me.
Feeling everything at once, or nothing at all?
“Drowning beneath the waves, or dying from the thirst?”