Every time I go to write
I find myself pushing back from the pen
Suppressing my urge to capture the moment and let it flow
My problem is I can't let it go

Every minute I waste pondering over the idea
Or engaging in self dialogue to mock interview what I wish the other person would've said
I regret not letting a little piece of my anxiety go off the page
But the festering blister remains

This impulse to fight back the tears
Hold my tongue from blasphemy
Or even choke out the will to scream
It boils inside of me

I have enough dirty secrets to spill across the page
But my obsessive-compulsive ways (like Monk) won't let me

This morning I felt it in my heart to write about the hurt and anger a recent lover caused me
Instead I diverted my energy into this poem
Distracting my spirit from writing about the things I truly care about
To write about how bad I am at writing the things I need to write about

I need to write about my failures at love, and the embarrassment that comes along with it
And how as a woman I'm starting to think we were designed to get played

I wish I was a songwriter... Then I could sit back and replay my lyrics
To capture that moment when I felt like this

I wish I was brave enough to let my voice sing this to you, rather than spit it
Brave voice...Brave heart
Brave enough to go back and write what brought me here in the start