I have been cursed
To feel things so deeply I wonder if everyone else is blind when they don’t see all the magic.
To turn every. Thing. Into poetry. Like it’s what I was born to do.
And I fight it-
To no avail.
I don’t find any peace until my fingers hurt with the effort to keep up with all the words wanting to leave my head and my mind and my soul.
Is it worth it to live in such depths? Where even a car ride turns into a novel and the way the wind hits the trees and blocks the sunlight could be a hymn, written for the Earth? Sometimes, I search for shallowness.
But that’s where I drown.