i always thought that throughout life
daily experiences would be enough to sprout inspiration
whether that was small or big, happy or sad, ordinary or uncommon, incidents.
i thought that, whatever their feelings, one would always be able to express themselves with a paper and a pen.
little did i know.
i can't fathom a lyrical sentence anymore.
i can't convey a subliminal message behind a sentence, a poem, or a goddamn story anymore.
i can't find the suitable words to express my feelings anymore.
you've confused me.
you took my power away.
why did you take my power away?
how did you take my power away?
they say that the ones who seek to express themselves through art; drawing, singing, writing,
are the ones who are hurt
and only now, that you have filled my heart with nothing but butterflies,
do i understand.
hell, you stole my getaway.