Categories
Prose

I cannot write any more

I cannot write any more.

I cannot write any more;
every time my pen
touches paper, it catches fire-
I cannot contain it.

My words glow, then crackle,
then burst alight- for too long
I’ve been riding through this
tunnel, writing, waiting for
the light.

I think of new ways
to repackage old statements,
I’m tired of writing and
I’m tired of feeling weightless.
I hate this. I can taste it.

I cannot write any more
since every time I write,
my words protrude from the
page like
hot daggers and knives.
They pierce me like the way
ink penetrates paper.

The fire used to feel warm
until it grew with my words
and cornered me into
needing to be heard;
the fire used to feel warm until
it burned me to my core.

I’m mesmerized by the flames-
my words animated in smoke;
I cannot write any more,
for I’m fearful that I'll choke.

I write to immortalize
such thoughts and feelings,
but the fire has grown-
it now reaches the ceiling.

I cannot write any more,
the fire scorches my hand;
there isn't much more
I could withstand.

I cannot write any more.

By abdullahkinan

24, college student, cars, science, blah blah

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