Why is it easier to write when times are hard,
when hearts hurt?
Where's the craving for words when days go well,
smiles stay put?
Perhaps we write when it's turmoil,
because we're trying to wring it out,
make it stop,
run it dry.
and Perhaps we don't when we're content,
because we're trying to savor the taste,
the enjoyment,
soak it all in.
I suppose, sometimes, a lack of words,
speaks loudest.
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