Sometimes the lines are blurred between girl and writer. |
Whisper, Writer There are voices that whisper to me at 3am writer, they whisper all you have to scream to the silence is words writer, they whisper we give you permission to spin your cobwebs out of any object or grace writer, they whisper, we have already defined your end you will twist yourself into a net of crystalized cobwebs that you yourself created but did not write an escape to writer, they whisper, we have blurred the defined lines between girl and writer being and word-spinner named and unnamed writer, they whisper we make the walls talk to you and the reflections in the glass speak forget that you are girl and define yourself as writer forget that you breathe air and exhale the remains on paper no, I whisper, as I separate girl and writer, being and word-spinner named and unnamed no, I whisper, I will not define myself by what you say I am no, I whisper, no matter how innocent a definition you would make me believe you are no, I whisper, you are a drug, a drug, writer no, I will not overdose not on your intoxicating rushes midnight highs music induced euphoria I will not choke on creativity will not give up happiness for you you cannot be my downfall if I take you in moderation I force the writer whispers to be quieter the tangible calls of my name to be louder I will live until life has been loved and cruel time has stolen my breath. not you, writer. |