I write to document the stories in my head that I may or may not experience in my own life. To remember great times, to wish for great times, and experience life in its purest form, beginning with the formations of letters.
Twisted little girl, Do you know not the meaning?
Do you know not the truth?
Why do writers write? How could you ask
And then give the typical self indulgent answer?
I shake my head at your shallow nature.
Do not act so surprised you fool.
I know you have neglected me, which is why
You gave the substandard answer of what you think an esteemed author would say.
But you have given me life, and therefore, I shall keep my opinions to myself.
But remember, my writer that next time, I will not be so yielding.
Words, sentences, and paragraphs will become
Lost and unobtainable.
Yes, that wall will be up, ready to block any idea that wishes to escape.
And it will stay up if you do not comply with my demands.
It is very simple.
Quit allowing those pesky thoughts of significance to leak through.
Write from you and whatever you do,
Do not think.
Do not think.
Do not think.
It ruins everything.
Just write.