Every drop of the ink. Every wood-scent of the paper. Every rampaging thoughts. Every dancing words. It’s calling me. It’s music that fuels my soul.
Every plot. Every story. Every note. It’s whispering. Mystifying my mind. It’s a magnet that’s trapping me down. It’s like my favorite frappucino of life. It’s music to my eyes. It’s my lifeline.
When words come to life, I retreat to a powerful world. A world of my own. A world that bows down to my every command.
It’s as if I’m painting a wonderful masterpiece. It’s as if I’m carving an amazing piece.
When my words come to life, my heart breaks free. They comfort me.
When my words come to life, they mirror the silent stars. Shining loudly. Screaming quietly.
I am writing again. I will write again. Because I can. Because my words can come to life.
Wanderlust 