A playground of thoughts
Today, my mind is a playground of thoughts.
If one thought exhausts another,
maybe they would cease to exist—
but today, they multiply.
Today, my thoughts have become a burden.
In the chaos of my mind,
I search for new literature,
new words to anchor my restless soul.
I am a writer.
I don’t need food to nourish me,
nor shelter to shield me,
nor breath to survive.
All I need is a copy that never tires,
and a pen that dances on the page.
I am a writer.
I draw shapes from words,
pour ink like a river that never runs dry.
I write with curled fingers and a wet pen,
as if the very act of creation is my lifeblood.
When life feels colorless,
I splash color onto the canvas of each moment.
I walk with the weight of my thoughts,
each step an echo of the writer’s burden.
Today, my thoughts weigh heavy.
But in their pressure,
I continue to search for new literature,
for a voice that might quiet the storm.
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