Creative Torment

It's been a mystery to me,
why was I chosen.....
why must I be alone.....
to perform this art?

friends, family, love,
keeps one suspended,
out of touch of one's creative self,
where heart and mind submerge

I did not choose this,
it chose me,
at times I'm consumed by it,
at times my mind is not my own

words fill me and some never leave
I do not write them, for if I did,
I would surrender and lose,
what little of myself remains

I curse this frustration from within,
this creative torment of solitude,
this paralyzing fear of words,
words I can never convey

my emotions churn within,
I do not expect this to be understood
how can I expect others to understand,
what I myself do not understand?

I pinch myself and I am conscious,
conscious that I have control,
control of those words that have been written,
and control over those that have not

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