Why must I always think in verse?
Is it a talent?
More like a curse
All day long songs pour through my head
But before they hit paper, they're usually dead
A few survive, most get archived and others quickly deleteted
It doesn't take more than a couple of lines to know you've been defeated

Blessing or curse?
Spoken or verse?
Two pieces of a broken mind,
Searching for the power to find
What she knows is inside her,
The capability-
But in the end it comes
Down to ability,
And she hasn't found it yet-
Her brain is full of detailed worlds,
But how to draw them out?
Some may call it writer's block
But she has writer's drought.

I flew above the horizon
Soar high with the eagles
Flew up high to cross the great sea
With my magnificent wings

I joined the clouds on the skies
I flapped and flapped tirelessly
To reach the paradise
On which I can almost see.

The eagles gracefully flew over the mighty mountain
They reached the other side
They have entered their destination
A beautiful paradise.

It is my turn to ascend like them
I charged, pushed myself higher
But I lost my grace, I hit a tree
I fell down to the dirt

I tried to rise from the ground but I can't
Tried all my might but my wings are broken
I can no longer fly
I can no longer land on paradise.