I can’t write.
Give me a pen and some paper and I could write till my emotions run dry, it’ll come out with blank vocabulary and scribbled sentences but at least there would be something.
Give me a pen and some paper but through some limitations into the mix, rules, guidelines and things I must include, It’ll come out the same way it came in, blank, plain, lifeless with maybe a scribbled out sentence, on a good day maybe. You give me the lines expecting me to colour them, but don’t be hopefully the colours will be all wrong, orange instead of magenta and black instead of green.
I try my best, I promise you that but that never seems to be good enough, among the best of the best my words don’t come flowing out of my pen in a precise swirl of incredable words, just a blotched piece of trash in a pile of A* with a tear mark on the side…