Hemingway

Running out of words. Writers' block. Running out of reasons. These tired eyes seek a place to rest from the downfalls they've witnessed. I fought sorrow with these beaten fists. I've come to learn time won't heal a thing. I've cursed the skies, I've cursed the sun, for it's been burning me alive. Let the skies open up so the rain can remind me of who I am. Let the sound of the earth drain the outside world and give shelter to my mind.