Burning to write

My fingers burn to speak
But my mind is too weak.
I can’t lay out the words my heart wants to say.
My mind fidgets with words but can’t get them out the right way.
The pen in my hand starts to shake as if it were to burst,
Warning to erupt if my writers block were to grow worse.
My heart promises to do the same as it beats within my chest
In an unsteady rhythm as if preparing to take a premature rest.
My skin crawls all over my body as if attempting to take flight
Onto the paper where it used to shine with all its might,
When I used to spill my whole being onto sheet after sheet
Of paper where life was truly complete.
My body and my soul are threatening the mind which can no longer produce
The words that would carry me to the only place I dared let myself loose.
An agitated heart pumps blood to a mind clouded,
Lost, almost forgotten in a room over crowded
With troubles that burden it night and day.
But my soul continues to fight, for there must be a way.
Something must exist that may restore the joyous envisions
That filled my mind before finding words for heart and soul became difficult decisions.
My mind has had its share of hard times,
The pains that sit on what were once brilliant lines.
Making the words dance in the reader’s mind as they tell my story.
Dancing gaily they describe with perfection a tale of magnificent glory.
Now each line is composed of jumbled words that tell
A story of which neither heart nor soul would ever spell.