I turn the page
My pen scratching furiously across the blinding whiteness
Sticking my pen deep into the well of my own blood
I write again, pouring out the pain of the past letting it slip away
Ancient echoes of heartbeats that once were reverberate in the still night air
My lungs filled with the rancid air of the forgotten fragments that now well up inside my mind
Struggling for a breath, just one breath, choking on the memories
Once again fighting to break free of what was, and the strike of a match snaps my mind back into the now
My hand clenching the pen tightly,so tightly its snapped in two
The match held closely now to the page, flames licking at it
And in the blink of any eye...it is no more
Wisps of smoke and ash carried upon the wind
I turn the page
Writing slowly now, a new pen in hand
The ink no longer blood red, and the calmness comes again

That is how it is with me sometimes when I write...I write when I'm upset happy sad joyous and everything in between. If I write when I'm upset it helps greatly...and I do end up writing something softer on another page...

Me 2, I've always loved to write, and when my mind is in knots, thats how i unknot them I write and write and write some more, soon I feel lots better.

"i like that"