The poet writes
with no pause and no rest
in the vain hopes to finish
his works in due time
as he stares at his canvas which was
a sheet of innocence
now tainted by shades of black
that has since lost the ability
to reflect that which is inside
leading him to question how
he fell this far
to writing to cater to
a crowd of sheep
praying for a chance for himself
to finally,
breathe