By. Lauren

I try to pursue my dreams but every time I'm faced with the harsh reality.
Ideas never come to me.
It always must be on their own terms.
Today I realized
I am lost in the obis of my own poetry.
No escape of finishing a poem:
All I know how to do is repeat a line.
Will this ever be done?
Poetry is a dream of mine.
If only it was not a weary traveler carrying only one bag at a time.
Poetry how may I help you today?