Teardrops fall, and then they stop. You write another line. The tears come back. And then stop again right as you’re able to write another stanza.
Writing is hard.
Writing is painful.
It makes you cry, it makes you reminisce.
And when you’re done, you cry again.
You look at the beautiful poem you’ve just created. The story of something. The story of life.
Writing is a stress relief.
Writing is a cure.