The bluest Monday
Of the month
Could not teach
Me to
Understand,

The ways my
Words could
Bend and twist,
And simply
Slip away

Things never
start out
normally

Or ever
end well
with me

But I
never
expected a
demise like
this

These melancholy
days pass by
like broken dreams
in a stream

I stare out
at the window
and wonder,

When will
this all be
over?

Today I thought
About the
old days and
how much I missed
that smile spread
across her
lovely lips

Oh to go
back to
those days,
where our love
was free and
the birds did
sing of a
world that
has now fallen
dead

She stole away
my heart,
like many a thing

And oh, how I
wished to steal
her's away too

Gather all of
our stupid dreams
together in
a bag

And leave me
be, for
sanity is a
cruel mistress

What is inspiration?
Answer me this
Is it a creature,
long since dead?

Is it something
that comes and
goes with time
and age?

Or are we
ourselves inspiration?
Or are we cruelty?

An evil thing,
filled with hopeless
dread.

I know not
what inspiration is,
but I seek it,
and all it's
wonderful dreams.