STORY: I lost the paper and pen قصة: فقدت الورقة و القلم

I Lost the paper and pen

We do not deny our need for human isolation from time to time
It is a phase of discovery for our dead selves
We may choose it by filling our will
And he may slap us with sadness ... and throw away our lives
In an abandoned corner
To stretch hands from an unknown source
Are trying to recover the bodies of despair that has spread its roots
To the deepest depth within
These hands penetrate us
And a handful of letters and words
Long-term exhalation
Or a voiceless scream
He lands on paper
Or in the embrace of the blue world
Or on the walls
You may take the name "scribbles"
Or "Moods"
You may have no name ... Untitled
Because she lost her identity
While she was on her way to freedom!
Sometimes ...
We have to imagine something that can not happen
To hold the breath of the impossible for a moment
We live ...
To break the walls of the narrow world
We leave the banners of the dream fluttering on one
Tops of imagination we did when we exploded involuntarily!
You learn ...
Only sorrow falls from all the masks we wear
The only one who makes the soul bare of all impurities is representation
It is true that it is a weakness ...
It makes us exaggerate the decoration of the paintings of despair
So that's a coincidence crossing our streets
He thinks the end of the world is approaching!
Or that every cell in us is dying ..
We humans exaggerate greatly in our grief
In a time when everything is fake
Sadness alone became a sincere feeling
Which is no doubt
right Now ...
I try to stop writing
But I can not
I think I'm out of control!
I try not to lie to myself
I told her: I lost the appetite of writing
To stop burning the hope of those around me
Tears of these sad words melancholy!
To enter into silence
The world relaxes its prick
You know ..
If each one of us in his love of life and enthusiasm
And his confidence in himself .. as much as his grief
His crying and his sense of remorse
The world would be better than it is
Why we need human development!
And to chatter books that try to describe hope
Which tell you the truth of your difference from others
Although you know this !!! ... But that fact is sleeping unfortunately ..
I can not describe the scenes of writing spontaneously
Move each small and large inside you
In your own way ...
Make you accept the brow of each character
Because it helped you translate your details
And shake every word that crosses the bridge of your expression
Because they understand you more than anyone!
right Now ....
I do not want to write .. Believe me!
I close the door in the face of these words
How much of it flows
Whenever I decide not to write ..
I think I'm tough
Or heart of iron ..
No ...... maybe plastic!
How can I refuse to receive these words?
How can I prevent her from life?
They are like us ...
Suffering, breathing, loving, hating, dancing and playing!
We breathe the spirit out of them
Then pass and justify .....
Well ... Enough is enough!
Please forgive me the words
I have lost the appetite of writing i swear ..