Where has it gone?
I used to be good,
I used to be a poet,
Who could fine the words and pick and choose,
I could tell you my story and make it relatable,
I could make you feel any emotion and make it real.
Where has that gone, where is my fire my imagination?
I was the best,
And Please I know, its arrogant but I do not mean to deceive,
Even the famous ones, they bore, but with me everything became lore,
So much accolade, so much triumph,
Born under skill and pain the mightiest,
But it’s disappeared,
From misuse and disrespect.
Hopefully hiding, realistically gone.
There is no magic cure no band aid for my loss, my pain.
Do no be me, do not second guess.
No longer regret, don’t fret.
Just go and write your soul,
Don’t forget it, don’t let it pass,
Release it let the talent and emotions flow.
Because one day it will be gone,
And your lone talent no more.
And your going to be alone,
Without even the words to implore.