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Write about coffee when you are still tired in your bones,
about light when the night drags on,
fire when you are cold,
depths when you are hot,
bones when you are breaking,
flowers when you are whole,
roots when you are scared,
love when you hate
hate when you are sick
and sick when you are sad.
Write to breathe, and don’t forget to breathe when you write.
Write when it is not right to write about the wrong things in this world,
but make that right by writing about them anyway.
Write of dreams when we run out of what to look forward to.
Write a story,
write of hope,
from day to night,
until the eve of the end of your days,
to save the last reserves of ink for the afterlife.
Writer’s Block is the curse of being a writer. You can’t see it, you can’t hear it, you can’t taste or smell it, but it weighs on you heavy. The poem above lists some ideas of how to chisel down the bulbous block, but I have a little advice. When you feel gray, and you feel like your stories and poems aren’t worth it. Post them. Show it to people, so the feeling of failure ebbs away. Write, even though you don’t think you can. Write a sentence. Write one word. Write a period or a comma a day. Writer’s Block is a mouth that swallows us whole, the teeth hanging above and the awful stench of the breath enveloping our other senses, and writing something a day, or sharing your work, helps you get out of the dark into the reality that is, you are a talent. You are a Writer.