The poet inside of me died, I don’t know when but suddenly the words that I clung onto vanished. Maybe it’s when the time that I was swallowed by the thing that I’ve written most about– fear. I was afraid of losing myself along the process of finding myself, I got succumbed by the idea of this is all I’ll ever be and the words I tried to fight it off with were not strong enough. The words that were easy and were there in a second to comfort me– it left me with these blank eyes.

I am like an empty soul floating around and traveling with no destination. Words were all I have but nothing lasts forever, I’ll just remember what I was back then and hold onto the memories of my own words that I’ll re-read from time to time, hoping to find it once again. Maybe it will come back or maybe it won’t but I am glad that the poet inside of me lived even if it was just for a little while.