Monumental Travesty Of Writing - Poem by Maria Junnonen
Words sribbled down on the paper, marking stories on the papyrys.
Oh what would I do now that I write onto the paper with the pen, the ideas run dry in a matter of moments and my hand hurts.
Words pushed down by the keyboard and the computer screen tilts its head, watching the author as it uses its programs.
But oh, how difficult it is becoming to write as the words dry up and using the uknown language becomes stiff and hard.
Words and stories created by another language, newly learned and done. Word scribbled down on the parchment and being repaired.
Oh but how difficult it is to write anything after you have went through everything and tried all.
It seems there's something blocking your thoughts, something eradicating them from your head before they sprout.
You cannot wet them since they die anyway and you do not remember what it is you wished to write.
You've tried programs and paper, books and scraps. Everything. From pen to keyboard, from a stick to singing.
You've tried many languages but they become boring after writing so long with them.
After a while you wish to cut your fingers for they cannot produce anything like the text you read.
It's monumental travesty.
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