These words are blank verses of my own,
They carry no soul without my tone,
I believe they have been lost somewhere,
In my crumpled life and my furrowed head.
I approach back to this,
I call it my heaven of peace,
Where I am not judged,
For my contemplation of the perceived.
But lately its suffocating my soul,
My own grace has left my dome,
Now my words don't rhyme,
Not that I care,
But where do I  vent,
When my head is  muddled,
It has forgotten its art,
Forgotten its job,
I want to write again,
I want to express,
The way I used to,
The words I sung,
From deep within my soul,
They sung  I swear,
But the art is lost now,
And my soul feels doomed,
Like a witch who has just been shot in its broom!