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.