A pen and paper is all I would need.
The words would come through me, for all to read.
Happiness and sorrow, bitterness and grief.
Some poems would be long, others would be brief.
Then one day, silence, I had felt.
Emptiness filled me, in this place where I knelt.
I could not speak, a word or a sound.
My voice had been lost, no where to be found.
Depression filled my heart and mind.
Still the words, I could not find.
The darkness growing ever so.
Soon the tears, began to flow.
Can the words just leave you?
Without a goodbye?
Does the writing just stop?
Or was it all just a lie?
I am forcing myself to write this now.
With the hope, that I can remember how.
Searching for the words, is a struggle true.
With an empty mind, not knowing what to do.