My fingers are
unstoppable; they
write, write, write
and soon
type, type, type.
My mind is also
unstoppable; the
wheels and gears
in my head
are on fire and
they keep on
accelerating faster
and faster with
rigorous statements
which are about
to pour out
immediately. There's
only one hope I
can see right behind
my eyelids, only
one way through the
last chance I tightly
clench in my grasp:
"prove them."
I'll tell the world that
I really love
what I am doing
and I must
show them that
this is what keeps me
alive, that this is
what keeps my focus
intact, that this is
what builds my character.
Because no matter
how many times others
would tell me
to stop this
unnecessary passion,
I'd still huff in
dissatisfaction, and still
come back to this exact
same spot and
still continue to
be immersed in
either writing
or typing again.