My mind has been blank for years
I can no longer bleed on to the paper
I lost my ability to write
Expression has been foreign to me
Since I opened my veins to write about him
The wound festered and poisoned my brain
It took my sense of speech
My sense of beauty
My artistic gleam upon the world
I have yet to find an antidote
To the venom in my veins
The verses will have to stay concealed
Buried under my bones
Hymns trapped I the hinges of my heart
Hoping to one day spill onto the paper