A Writer Like You


In the quiet of my thoughts, where shadows stretch and play,

I’ve seen the light of words you write, guiding my astray.

Every sentence you craft, every tale you weave,

Makes me wonder, makes me grieve.

For in your lines of ink and prose,

A familiar pain, a love, it shows.

You speak of things both dark and deep,

Of dreams that stir, of wounds that weep.

I’ve walked those roads, I’ve felt that rain,

The euphoria of joy, the sting of pain.

And though our paths may never meet,

Your words are footsteps on my street.

I’ve wrestled too with the blank page’s dare,

Lost in the abyss of writer’s despair.

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