Broken Writer

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Why are all writers broken?

We craft meaning from these broken shards of our soul.
Broken by hope
Broken by love
We bleed blue
We streal words from the books we love,
We steal moments from time,
We steal life from death,
We craft our meaning from nothing.
We lock it away like our treasure in our chest where we come to bleed blue.

Isn't it cruel?
I never heard your side of the story.
Neither did you hear mine.

We simply misunderstood each other.
The time wasn't on our side.

I still wish we talked.
It's painful but real.

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