Writing

A simple act.
I struggle to live a life of meaning,
and to put pen to paper.
What is the correlation?
Because I love this so much,
but can never seem to put down the things
I so desperately need to.
The Great Novel:
Meaning, devotion, sensuality,
power, passion.
This I desire.
I need to.
To feel alive,
free, liberated from myself.
From my past.
What is in there?
Why can't I see what it is?
What stands in my way?
I can tell it is something from childhood.
A past love, the need to feel heard.
Wanting my father so many nights,
hurting my mother.
The regret of that moment.
The need to be heard.
Is that why I perform?
Because I get the attention I so desired?
It's never enough.
It will probably never be enough.
To fill his void.