Sometimes I feel like I have no real inspiration
As if everything I write is tired
That it's not original
Sometimes I read my words and I don't see the purpose
I use big words to decorate my verses
But in the end there's no meaning
Maybe my work is all one big metaphor for my life
No purpose
Constantly searching for a way to make things look or sound better
Disguising the facts
The emptiness
And in my inspiration-less rut I found inspiration
The irony of it all
It strikes again