Sometimes words fail to compile me,
Or maybe I’ve failed them
When I need to weaponize
I forget not to criminalize
I feel as though I’ve been sentenced my entire life
In the sufference of my tongue tied
My mind couldn’t gather thoughts
As it produced more.
Looking at incomplete art and incompetent heart,
I feel unqualified as a sculpture.
If I cant shape my truth
How can I shape yours?
My hands are a disgrace.
Hell, my mind is out of shape.
Who am I to say that everything is a lie.
When for love and war, I’m not ready to die.
My rhyming patterns turn the blood in my heart to rust,
So I throw words together to compensate for my lack of trust
I fill my heart with successes that aren’t mine,
Stories that aren’t mine.
There are unsolicited ways to fix
Scratches underneath the skin of my palm since I was six
Find me that rhythm
Catch that wave
and don’t let me fail
Dont let the words fail
As they fall off the edge of my fingers,
The edge of my lips.
I hope you relate with it and cope with your writer’s block if and when you come across it in your writing journey.
Love, A. ♡