I don't know what has come over me.
Sometimes, I can't stop writing,
not a bad thing.
only when I push my medical work to the side
to work on composing pieces.
I eventually do the other things
but later.
But I have to,
if I don't,
the moment & the words might escape,
might fade away from my mind -
never to be recovered.
I don't want to lose them,
I've lost several before.
At times it feels like an illness,
a chronic illness I can't manage.
A chronic illness that will consume me,
A chronic illness that will be the end of me.
Poor but content,
or Rich with resent,
What will I be?
©drvodka2005
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2 comments:
i noe wat that feels like.. weirdly.. despite the supposed cultural divide..
really its almost a blessing tt the words come to you.. its when u feel but cant put it down that u feel lost.
This is a perfect poem for the next writers meeting. I LOVE your writing lady!!! I can't say it enough.
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