I burned a man in a wheelbarrow
at the bottom of my garden
as flames scorched and blackened
he smiled
he smiled the same as he did the day we met
he smiled the same as he did the day we first made love
yeah, he smiled just the same
no pain did cross his face
his likeness peeled and bubbled away
as ashes landed upon my skin
I could breathe again
Yeah, I lit the match
and I wont be looking back
bones turn to embers
and the dust covers memories past
Writers block?
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In all honesty, yes. I think it’s something writer’s all go through. I have found myself struggling to find words especially after losing my Mum last year. Sometimes to need to let creativity breathe for a moment and let it happen when it needs to.
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