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do I really want to write?

Below is the poem I wrote in the year 2006. I came across my book (while I was cleaning the studio space) where I use to pen down my poems.

I still remember the evening when I wrote this piece, the room was dark except for a faint light coming from the streets and a few passing cars, I was pacing up and down the living room deep in thought, I could hear the faint footsteps left behind by my bare feet, all the time thinking about what I should write. Everything had slowed down. Even my mind.

Here is what I wrote.

———–Just thinking———-

I am thinking
About what to write
Then I asked myself,
Do I really want to write?

No words in my mind
No feelings in my heart
Like this empty home,
With its barren walls.

Up and down the stairs I go
In and out of the rooms I flow
Walking and collecting  
The dust off the ground
Leaving behind a trail
of jumbled words and sounds.

Still thinking
Still pondering
Again, I asked myself,
Do I really need to write?