Diary of a Girl Who Cheated Death

Writer

I cherish the art of writing poems. Even in the darkest of times, I have always found solace in expressing my thoughts and emotions through the beauty of words. However, as years passed, my poetry has transformed into a manifestation of pain and despair. The once vibrant and colorful prompts are now replaced with melancholic and somber themes.

While I still find comfort in pouring my heart out on paper, the words no longer flow as effortlessly as they once did. Instead of being a cathartic release, writing has become a struggle, a constant battle with a blank page. It seems like every time I sit down to write, all I see is emptiness, a void that I cannot fill.

Despite my efforts, nothing seems to inspire me anymore. The passion that once fueled my creativity has been replaced with a sense of numbness. It's as if the only way to keep writing is to embrace the darkness that surrounds me.

I wonder if I will ever find the light again or if my poems will forever be tainted by the pain that I carry within me.