“Ego will be the death of us all.
The unending fear that
We may appear too earnest;
That we’re putting ourselves
Out there, a tad too much;
And that maybe, our enthusiasm
Might repulse them.
But I suppose it’s all alright
Until the music stops.
Because I fell in love
With those little things;
And now I am falling out,
Scarily enough, for the same reason.”

“I’ve been all drained of inspiration,
There is no stimulation;
My love is beginning to fail,
My muse is bleeding so much poetry,
But I can’t cup my hands and hold
Onto the musings to slowly feed upon it.
I want to tear my eyes out
For feeling so dissatisfied and blaming
Myself,  you and then myself,
After all this time.
I DON’T LOVE HIM, I DON’T LOVE HIM!
My brain screams as he arrives
And plays all the songs I have ever loved
But then he gives me a sweet smile,
And my heart settles and gently,
Whispers over all the indecision,
Silly girl, of course you love him but
You just really hate yourself for it.”

A strike in the wrong direction,
A shot into the hard part and
It’s tip broke off.
Everyone laughed with mirth as
The arrow was thrown away
Without a second thought.
The arrow, it waited patiently,
It’s heart breaking quite indistinctly.
It had once belonged to the gods.
Created by Zeus in affection,
For the young and divine Artemis.
He thought of ol’ Robin Hood
And his merry men running
Through the green thickets;
Fighting the poor and aiding the poor.
He thought of every Prince who had
Ever aimed and hit the eye, him as the witness.
But, now he lay under a tree
Crying silently,broken and useless,
But then she came along and picked him up
Played for a while, making him a wand.
She fell in love with the minimalism and
Inspiration led her to dedicate a rhythm
For the beautiful broken arrow.