I type rhymed verses onto my phone
and chase metaphors;
my dry days are free versed poems
and I’m forced into food strikes when my words don’t gulp down my thoughts;
I draw parallels between slanted lines and
call them straight as I
myself go on tangents, searching for
words to say.
I am a writer of thoughts and
speaker of my own mind,
but lately they have been withdrawing,
fading into the darkness,
hiding behind the blinds.
In a first, I know how to say
but not what;
it’s the knowledge of speech but
the ignorance of word.
So what do I do, when my
saturation point is not too much input but
no output at all;
what do I do when,
I want to shout but
no words would come out at all?


Author: Priya Ratti

Psychology nerd, Poetry writer, Solitary thinker, and occasional optimist.

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