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When you aren't writing for quite long, You think,

When you aren't writing for quite long, You think, being solitude, may bring flock of words to pen down your thoughts and you yearn for that loneliness. Every little silence you wish, that it may offer, words to speak to the rest of the world. You reach out to that moment, to get still, statue and pause. You wish, some absence will make up for the presence, for the vacabs to flow. You tend to drift away from the chaotic crowd and seek sane in silence. Stop getting carried away by the deception of your thoughts. It's the urge to write that needs to be alive. The delay is, only in the selection of subjects and the tip of your pen meeting the paper. Thoughts will pour in as drenched words, spilling ink, bleeding profusely and you will realise, it never left you, never. Sooner or later, you realise, you need neither the solitude extravagance nor the chaotic milieu; "It's just you; you alone"; the despair mumbles. For a better read: When you aren't writing for quite long, You think, being solitude, may bring flock of words to pen down your thoughts and you yearn for that loneliness. Every little silence you wish, that it may offer, words to speak to the rest of the world. You reach out to that moment, to get still, statue and pause. You wish, some absence will make up for the presence, for the vacabs to flow. You tend to drift away from the chaotic crowd and seek sane in silence. Stop getting carried a
When you aren't writing for quite long, You think, being solitude, may bring flock of words to pen down your thoughts and you yearn for that loneliness. Every little silence you wish, that it may offer, words to speak to the rest of the world. You reach out to that moment, to get still, statue and pause. You wish, some absence will make up for the presence, for the vacabs to flow. You tend to drift away from the chaotic crowd and seek sane in silence. Stop getting carried away by the deception of your thoughts. It's the urge to write that needs to be alive. The delay is, only in the selection of subjects and the tip of your pen meeting the paper. Thoughts will pour in as drenched words, spilling ink, bleeding profusely and you will realise, it never left you, never. Sooner or later, you realise, you need neither the solitude extravagance nor the chaotic milieu; "It's just you; you alone"; the despair mumbles. For a better read: When you aren't writing for quite long, You think, being solitude, may bring flock of words to pen down your thoughts and you yearn for that loneliness. Every little silence you wish, that it may offer, words to speak to the rest of the world. You reach out to that moment, to get still, statue and pause. You wish, some absence will make up for the presence, for the vacabs to flow. You tend to drift away from the chaotic crowd and seek sane in silence. Stop getting carried a
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Blue Butterfly

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For a better read: When you aren't writing for quite long, You think, being solitude, may bring flock of words to pen down your thoughts and you yearn for that loneliness. Every little silence you wish, that it may offer, words to speak to the rest of the world. You reach out to that moment, to get still, statue and pause. You wish, some absence will make up for the presence, for the vacabs to flow. You tend to drift away from the chaotic crowd and seek sane in silence. Stop getting carried a #yourquote #yqbaba #yqenglish #justwrite #aestheticthoughts #peppeboy #urgetowrite