I'm sitting up in a pitch dark room
waiting for the poetry mood
to consume my very being
and being that I'm sitting here waiting
I doubt it's coming
It finds me quietly as I'm running
sneaks up behind me like a mugger in the night
and encourages my aching soul to stop and write...
The longer I sit and wait
The longer it takes
And the longer I wait...
I cant take this pain
draining from my veins
through a line I slit
Just another line I couldn't put into words
It hurts to keep writing this...
I don't want to keep writing this
I'm finding it's ....
beginning to look a lot like mourning
on my wrist....
I'm so tired of writing this
How many different ways can I explain
How depressed I get ....
How many synonyms ...
for this life I live...
My happiness is curving inward
and I'm afraid I'll never get it out
I'm bringing about the topics I want to talk about
but never really touch on what I want to talk about
I'm trying to find a way out
and my peaceful mind
is being sabotaged by
the rage inside
And I'm sitting here just trying to write...
Writing four letter words backwards
KCUF
because I know there's nothing left
inside of a chest
where treasure used to rest ...
but's it's been replaced by loneliness
and I left this world...
and left you holding this...
and you wouldn't know it
but it's all I had left....