As I picked up my pen it fell heavy
Too long not doing something
The muscles atrophy
So one word at a time I get it down
Word choice matters
But in freefall it just comes out
From deep in my heart
The words pour like blood from my heart
Onto the page
Trapped inside for far too long
They gush out no matter how much of a murder scene it looks
I’ve turned on the tap
And they don’t want to be bottled like nestle

As I picked up my pen I realized I need to learn to be digital creative
And then I wouldn’t be crushed under the weight of all the handwritten ideas dying
Creativity being lost to the abyss
Drowning in my own distractions and feeling like a failure

Seeing the flags before getting in another situation I’d need to heal from
I guess that’s progress
But it doesn’t get these ideas created

On the other side of my pen are bits and bytes
Computer data holding my freedom
On the other side of my pen I can help people
Make a difference and have my existence matter

As I picked up my pen the reality of the ink mistakes weighs heavy wanting to be digital
But it’s not
With faint focus I eff up my free time
That really isn’t free because if I create then I can have the true freedom I long for

And here I sit
Words flowing from my fingers when I should be fast asleep
Numbness in my fingers, in my legs, to life
I need to turn this around, I need to make a change
All it takes is a choice, and focus and shutting out the noise
No more noise
Just creating, on my own, for my future
Since I’m the only one that can do this

Enough already, even I’m tired of the weight of this
It doesn’t have to be like this
I’ve picked up my pen and created all the things
Now I need to create them again, bigger, better, and accessible to all

Posted with freefall writing from prompts in the Creative Writing Facebook community https://www.facebook.com/groups/213087289131266/?ref=share