Writing is crucial to my survival,
the way to unscramble the mess of thoughts in my mind.
The untangling of my rope,
the best way in which I communicate.
Writing is that comfortable place in my day,
where I can click away at keys,
filling a stark white page with some text.
Jumbled, disorienting, churning,
trying to make something of nothing.
Hours sometimes pass,
papers crumpled, fingers tired.
Life wouldn’t be life without writing.
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