What has become of my energy
that I can barely make use
of the lonely pen on my bookshelf?
Yet alone, reach for it..
Desperate I am to fill this empty notebook
with lively, colorful words
then throw in some esoteric sentences
to compensate for the state of my spirit
because I cannot do much for her..
Oh, my release..
if you only knew how much you meant to me yesterday.
How I wish I had the strength.