I feel like I'm running out of things to say,
And once my words are all written,
My usefulness will be at an end.
I'll sit,
Alone and empty,
Unable to write,
And no longer able to feel.
I'll be a shattered shadow of what once I was.
My poems are my lifeblood,
Each one a single heartbeat,
In a single moment.
Each one I write fulfills a moment in time,
Another memory in my life.
And once my emotions run dry...
I will fade.