My back hurts because of slouching a lot.
Scribbling, reading, and crumpling
papers that have been tattooed by the
ink of anxiety, fury and misery.
I tried and tried to keep the words
from coming out, but they keep on
spilling like an outburst in a summer day,
like a sand wanting to be freed from my palms.
Music fills my head while my pen and paper
seem to have this irrevocable relationship
that even I couldn’t come between them.
More papers inked, time flies every blink.
But then I read a line from a written prose,
it says, ‘healing starts when you let go
of the demons that burden your soul.
To free them is to keep your heart pumping life.’©