Don’t be afraid to tell your story

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when my pen refuses​ to talk to my paper and the right words stop picking me up.

I wonder how will I go around the world.

The world that is incribed on the base of my thoughts and my feelings.

Then I remind myself the time ,I didn’t even know how to pick up a pen.

I make myself recall all those times ,I fell of the bicycle .

still  didn’t give up on riding it.

Because that bicycle had the power of taking me where I wanted to.

That sense of liberty ,being free as a bird still fills me up with immense happiness.

So does my pen.

So my dear pen I won’t give up on you ,even if you want me to .

Because you are the one who takes me through all untravelled road,those left out lanes,those moments I couldn’t live and give me the stories I couldn’t make.

So even if sometimes right word won’t pick us .

You and I  will find a story and weave it together.