Writing

The blank paper stared at me

And I took up pencil with trepidatio;

My palms were sweaty

And my nose was crinkling

When my nerves came close

To being shattered.

 

To freely write

Is to navigate unknown waters

And I dread to get

My feet wet.

 

The topics on the board

Glared at me

And I tremble

At their defiance.

 

What do I choose?

Do I opt for the easy one

Or let creative juices flow,

So I choose ambitiously?

 

Ah, I have my topic

And I am happy to note:

I will write

About the wonder of writing.

 

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