Writing - often my words are crystal clear.
 A refreshing drink of thirst quenching water.
 Welcome sight for many to enjoy.
 Those are good days.

 Sometimes the phrases flow like mountain streams.
 Swollen with freshly melted snow.
 Rushing on its way to a town eager to fill its reservoir.
 In those times I hop a tube an enjoy the ride.

 Today its different.
 It's only a trickle.
 Not of water.
 But blood.
 I think its mine.
 Honestly I'm not sure.
 
All I know is that it hurts.