EVERY TIME I WRITE

Sometimes my mind speaks to me
Urges me to take note of every single word it utters
It speaks when I finally try to
Step onto a new diversion from my path of nothingness

It just wants my attention
And in its favor, I feel like
Throwing away everything I have to do
And write.

This time my heart questions
"What for?"
Nothing really changes when you write
Nothing but the blank pages

A few eyes read,
A few minds understand,
A few lips smile
And? That's it! Nothing changes.

Getting sick of this routine.
Every time I try to find what
My path is, My mind interrupts
"Note it down. This ain't your path."

"Then what is?" I ask
Only to face the silence.
It has no answer
Just an intention to interfere.

It doesn't want to carry the blame
Of wrong decision. And I
Don't want to die on
This unsettled path.

I'm afraid to take a further step
and too weak to take the turn
I wish this path shuts down by itself
And leaves no option except to start over.

Start over I say, again with nothing
Other than a ruled out option in mind.
Where does that leave me? Still
In the face of an infinite options to try.

- Nothing really changes when I write
Except a few blank pages and time.
Nothing really pacifies my mind.