Price

 I feel like writing a poem

Yet no thoughts come to me.

No rhyme or reason to share 

No will to fill the empty pages.

With ink and words.

Yet I feel like writing a poem.

Why?

To be appreciated by people I barely know?

To be criticised by those who matter?

Or simply because I want to let everyone know

I am still at it,

The struggle and the journey 

Not giving up on dreams just yet.

I got what it takes,

I am running in a race 

With millions of others across the globe 

Named, unnamed, anonymous, famous 

To prove that I can write.

But why?

Here I am scribbling every day. 

Procrastinating about the story in my head

Which is yet to find the right plot.

Here I am weary from nothing.

Yet sleepless awake and alert 

Anxious about how the words refuse to flow 

In a night of writer's block.

I don't stop even when I want to. 

I can't stop, even when the thoughts tire me. 

As if I have a world out there 

Waiting for me to prove my worth.

© Suranya