The "how come every melody I write sounds the same" song

I have problems with melody. It's such a scary thing, trying to write a meolody, and I think the music part of my brains shuts down when I attempt to write melody, because I put so much expectation on it to be catchy and interesting, and melodic. And like everything else, when I get to that stressed ou tplace of unreasonable expectation, the creativity shuts down.

So I just write, and sing, and write some more, and sit at the piano, and write and sing. And if it's crap, it's crap. And if it sounds exactly the same as the last song I wrote, then I need to find some small change to make it sound at least a little different. And if it sounds like some song that's already been written, well, every melody possible has probably almost been written, so the pressure of extreme originality needs to be placed to the side. I make myself sit there until I have something, even if it is a rough poem and a couple of chord changes that I like.

My word starting point came from an e-mail I received this morning from Lucia, and an astounding blog entry that Adriana wrote today. So, I'm in this song, and they are too. Conclusion I've come to: people don't write enough songs involving relationships other than their primary relationship ones, and there is so much possibility in every kind of relationship, and in every person. Although, that is just a sweeping comment based on popular music, more than anything else...all sorts of writers write about all sorts of things...

D-F#m-G-D

She wrote a letter
all typed out lightly
grainy print from the memories
that we ache to lose

Bm-A-G-D

Swept from her bed
a wild pool of spring
spitting up roses
full out to form

F#m-A-C-A

Follow me a swallow
willow tree burns by the hill
paling structures intertwine

F#m-Bm-D-C

referenced by fear

D-F#m-G-D

Bring her back
from her closed islands
our strength twists
smoother to the joint

Bm-A-G-D

We've become
no further than this
our hands quite thin
our wrists imprinted

F#-A-C-A

and wading into water's
been true
our stories call to themselves

Bm-D-C-G

from the spinnings of shore