A poet's struggle

Once you start writing
You can never truly stop.
It’s like someone has taken control of your fingers,
Then your hands, then your wrists and then your entire arm.

It eats away at the muscles of your hands until you've no control of
what you write or do any more.

Then, it starts to take over your mind, exchanging academic knowledge to new vocabulary
And sentence structures.

That’s when time stops.

You feel your fingers typing, yet you have zero clue of where the story is going.
The ideas, colours, words, and concepts keep moving and flowing
As you start to lose yourself in the writing.

Your entire feeling of self disappears into nothing,
You morph into a purely emotional and verbal human,
losing touch with what you were before as you give in to the welcoming, familiar warmth that writing gives you.

You’re not yourself when you’re not expressing yourself.
You’re not a poet if you’re not constantly melancholic
You’re not a writer if you’re not a walking a dictionary
You’re nothing without writing.

Admit it.
You're lost.