I haven't been able to write anything
or look at any poetry
I'm not feeling it
I feel like time is going to fast
and I'm just getting dragged past these months
without even knowing what is going on
I haven't been able to rhyme
nor write one stanza
be compassionate
with others
trees are coming back alive
I know life is constantly moving
but where am I
I have no place
feel like a big waste of space
I haven't been able
to break the bottle
filled with puzzled feelings
I've let things go
secretly holding on
I haven't been able to write
in a while
time will pass by
I'll get inspiration
when I start to cry
I'll read a few poems
in the day
another blue moon
I have to choose
whether to stray away
from the earth
or grow closer
to where it most hurts