find the words or find the blade

coping mechanisms can still feel like shit

i used to be such a good writer 
a good communicator
the words always sitting at the tip of my tongue
the lexicon of a true creative 
yet as i seemed to get older rather than my skills sharpening it seemed the blade did 
my love of language deteriorated till rather it became a distant memory faded into sepia 
now i struggle to find the words to describe my very own feelings and emotions
i go through war with my words just to understand my afflictions — alexithimia  
they say
no words for emotions afflictions nor trials and tribulations
rather i sit
and i weep
as if each tear another wish for a genie to grant me the words i used to give power 
unable to get words out i sit like a shaken soda can
full of fizz and pressure
and pop and then 
i sit in a puddle of frustration until i can stumble upon a string of letters which slightly expresses any semblance of meaning for what other choice do i have it’s that
or the blade