Lately I have been struggling with inspiration.
Lately it has come from an ugly source.
When I write these words, they are tainted with remorse.
I feel like the light is all gone.
My thoughts black like silence.
What give them their weight is violent vices.
Now my uplifting banter is reduced to static, tragic white noise.
I once had a vision.
They said with my talent I could have soared.
Reached heights where only wings could go.
It’s wasted now.
Now walking this path of old.
A path where my options couldn’t grow.
A dreadful path full of bright and alluring glow.
I feel stuck on my way to losing one of the things that makes me know.
A piece of me which helps calm the flow.
There is hope! A tiny ember.
Smothered in the ash.
Nurtured by the pain of inspiration last gasp.
Well not really seeing as how it grasps again and again.
This desperate act just begins and begins.
Will I ever leave this path of mine?
I guess only time knows the answer.
All it gives me is a rhyme.