A lack of inspiration, of yearning to write poetry. Desire, where have You gone? My ambition wilting, dying, Waiting to be reborn, need one to salve My insecure heart. Perfection is lost, Hidden in my humanity; Realized I have discovered joy, but at what cost? Moving in the wrong direction, disguised as a bright new future, who am I to Say what works for me or not? I am but a child, groping through the darkness. Flew down the stream of confusion. In a rut For years to come; Iβm trappβd. Stuck in a cage; This is my own doing, my lack of rage.