The world has demands and puts us pressure,
Our inability to cope is our demise.

They told us that life is an adventure,
We didn’t know we had to compromise.

The pen used to be my secret saviour,
My only illumination through the dark.

Now I dream and I try to endeavour,
My creativity is just an empty park.

Magnanimous my darkness gives me chances,
But I’ve long ago forgotten how to fight.

Certain is the change of circumstances,
But I’ve lost the ability to write.