I want to write and have a million poems
to be prolific is the goal.
But, I lack inspiration to grab a pen
and sit down to write in my journal

I came to a conclusion; to be worthy of my time
my words would need meaning and soul
on how I was wrong and misguided in thought
but, it's ok for now I know.

Or how I remember why I compose at all
What attraction brings me back?
It is to read my own thoughts and memories I wrote
to help more daytime pass

Good or bad, short or long.. I am entertained
my efforts are lost in the process as creation begins an unending chain
that starts and continues everlasting in the boundary of my brain