Boom a beautiful piece,
You write it and feel it,
Immediately it is done,
Then it does better than you expect,
The viewers and readers are as countless,
As the bubble in a champagne glass,
And post after post,
Word after word,
Your readers love and love more,
But then you realize,
That you cannot just write anything,
Not like you used to write before,
You have to please those that read,
And it becomes harder and harder to write,
Every piece you write you erase,
It turns into a mess,
You are on a path you can't go back,
You can't almost turn back,
The addictive statistics on the administrators log in page,
Are evidence,
Trying to quiet the sounds in the background,
Trying to quit the graphs on the statistics,
I need to numb this now,
I love to write,
How can I write when all this voices in the background,
Ask me where did my beautiful words go?
Why I have written ugly boring ones,
Was it better when I hid this words,
In my diary and private books,
I enjoyed writing them down then,
Now I can't,
Its about,
Stop?
Is this funny enough?
Is there suspense enough?
I miss writing in peace,
Looking for a drug,
To numb the sounds in my head,
In the world,
Numb the people in my ear,
That tell me of awesomer bloggers,
Of writers who write in 3D,
Even my Telly is not yet in three dimension,
I love to write,
This is where I want to be,
Numbing the sounds around me,
I miss careless writing,
That's where all the great pieces are born,
Unchain me,
Let me be free,
Numbing the voices in my head,
The sounds around,
Other writers around,
For with freedom,
Comes a great piece,
And I crave one.
