I have lost my inspiration.
I've lost the will to write
to weave silent stories in words
and I've lost the ambition to become that person
who could create landscapes
with the flick of a tongue
I've lost the rhyme and reason
to figure out what is fiction and what is wrong
I've lost myself in my words
it's funny how that works.
I tried to become something that I am sure not
an artist,
slowly withering away like the rose
that sit so prominently on my heart
I'm losing my soul to my motivation
to finish school
go on to the future
I've gotten caught up in the stupidity of it all
and it hard for me to
stop
with simply sentences I could have written you into a world
but now that's slowly fading
I'm losing
and it's scary
crying doesn't help anymore
so tell me exercise this demon
how to win this war
because now when I come to think of it
I'm losing you
with in losing me
so we're both just dumb and lost
but mistake it for being free
so I don't know what to say to you
when you ask me how I feel
I really wish I could tell you
tell you something real.
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