I found that I cannot cry, and expect, in my tears, that a poem has been written.
Emotion, and heart, and feeling are not the only components to art,
and boy is it ******* hard to come up with the rest.
Sometimes, I’m so choked up on inspiration,
that I can’t get my figures to move well enough to type or write.
I’ll have a feeling in my head, so strong that it washes away any words for explanation.

Right now, I’m stuck, so I stumble, and I fall.
The poem collapses onto itself,
And I’m back at the beginning again.
With so much feeling and ideas.
And Nothing to show for it.