Lent Post #22: Trapped In Creation

Sometimes, I feel like I can’t write.
Trapped under the weight of potentiality,
Without having a way to move forward.
Ideas run through my head like a river
Without a controlled flow.
Overwhelmed, nearly drowning in my own mental construct.
Cage made of infinity,
I am its prisoner.
I break free to find,
That many hours have passed,
Far too much time.
The words are spilled like blood,
A Picture painted upon the canvas of your reality, and mine.
At the same time, it doesn’t feel real.

Sometimes, I feel like I can’t write.
Bearing the yoke of expectation,
While carrying the burden of modest success upon my back,
Wondering: can I do it again?
I’m a creator,
But I’m trapped in creation.
Sometimes bound by the things I’ve done before,
Wondering if this is the end of my creative life,
If I should tally up my score.
I wonder of their other creators too,
Who are trapped in creation,
Who are beasts of burden,
Bearing the yoke of modest success,
Sometimes bound by the things they’ve done before,
Who spill their blood on the canvas of their work,
All to merge their reality with mine,
Because then, maybe we will be creators,
No longer trapped in creation.

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