I'm out of words to write
Yet my emotions erupt.
Deep within I'm still ignite
But thinking process is corrupt
Sounds of beagle plays for me
I'm no longer the poet I use to be.
Words have escaped
My passion betrayed.
I'm like a wounded soldier
Who can no longer fight?
Should I give up?
Or should I write?
I’m in the dark
Yet I try so hard.
For Poetry is my light,
Poetry is my life,
But the luck of inspiration killing my soul.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
I'm out of words to write
Yet my emotions erupt.
Deep within I'm still ignite
But thinking process is corrupt
Sounds of beagle plays for me
I'm no longer the poet I use to be.
Words have escaped
My passion betrayed.
I'm like a wounded soldier
Who can no longer fight?
Should I give up?
Or should I write?
I’m in the dark
Yet I try so hard.
For Poetry is my light,
Poetry is my life,
But the luck of inspiration killing my soul.
Request permission to use this poem