literature

Not Sure Now

Deviation Actions

Published: Nov 26, 2013

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Literature Text

The words used to flow from my hands,
Free and running like waters of the land.
But it feels as though the beds have gone dry.
I begin to wonder if I have lost my words.
The elegance that swept me through the day.
Where have they gone?
How can I continue with out them?
The pictures have disappeared
The rhymes and rhythms drained away.
But how? How else do I do this?
How can I keep going with out them,
They were so strong to me, and now have just...
Simply snuck away in the years.

I don't want them gone, I wish they would return.
My soul feels so...

But wait,
Be still a moment, I must be crazy.
The words are there! They are!
And the pictures haven't gone,
They still blaze through my mind day to day.
I simply stopped hearing,
Stopped seeing,
Stopped...
imagining.
believing?

But how? Why?
If they are there, why can't I-

No.
Please, no. It can't be.
Not again.
It has left me once more.
Shut me out, knocked me down.
Good bye it said as it swept itself away in the wind.

I can't feel it anymore.
Art is so much more than something you see or read
More than what you hear.
Art is your passion.
Your fire.
Your emotion.
All of that anger and hate.
The love,
The fear,
The angst!

And mine is...
gone.

I don't feel the passion to write.
I don't feel that passion to draw.
I don't feel.

All I do manage to feel is,
Blank.

I always thought even through all the hurt I would still have that.
I would always have at least that.
My passion, my artists fire.
A power to drive my words, my pen, my imagination.

maybe if i beg...
it will come back...
i can find elegance...
right...?
passion...
and words and stuff..
all i had before...

idk.

imma go to bed.

m'okay with out it.

got my other stuff.

got work

job

roof over head

thanks brah

laterz

I was bored and thought I would like to go continue on a story I was writing. But I couldn't seem to get anywhere. I didn't know how I should progress. Funny thing was I knew where I was going and such but I couldn't seem to get anything else going, it was odd.

So I thought I'd come on DA and try writing a little poetry to vent a little. But the words were stuck. They weren't coming together, weren't flowing. It was like nothing I was writing was really tapping in to my emotions.

I'm not an emotionless robot, but I keep feeling like I've lost the passion I used to write and draw with. Like I just shut off because of a lot of stuff happening lately and in doing that, I smothered the artist inside me.

Writing this little bit was a huge struggle, so I thought I'd end it with a progression in the smothering of my inner artist, hence the lower-case and trailing off and such at the end. If she's still alive in me, she's crying in a corner. :