CUTTING PEN


You say write about anything, so here I am writing about the first line. How it makes me feel and think. Yet people don't get the fact that some of us are not writers. We are the weekend warrior writers. The very same people who pick up a pen and paper and feel that they must write great poems on their paper. I am changing the mold of the weekend writer. With the pen as my sword and notebook as my shield. I go into battle fighting with my emotions, trying to decide which one gets to come out on the paper through my sword. Cutting, hacking and beating though my mind. Not knowing what it means to feel the words. Not knowing where to go next from where I am now. Not understanding why the blood flows as the ink. But I'm in too deep now to turn back. Hell, if I could I would but, not now I must go on. I must keep going. Through my feelings, emotions, thoughts, and my mind. Cutting away the muck that makes up my mind. All the while being aware of what is to come. I, the weekend writer, with my heart on the table, talking of love, war, hate, revenge, and feelings for one another. Still I am sifting through the muck that is my mind.