The poetry has been drained from my system, I no longer have the urge to write, To go on, poem after bleeding heart of a poem, Story after stale story, With no sign of a novel is sight, No longer will I cling to words like counts, Sucking on the true wet meaning of life, Which is woven into the very fabric of words No longer can I carry on like a poet, Wrapped in a romantic dream, just to wake up .Bright and early each new morning and find the world... Is soaking in that same cesspool of chaos I had left it, I no longer trust the salvation, writing has promised me. No longer do I feel relevant to the new picture, THE BIG PICTURE, There is a time when your poetry became pretentious. And I can’t live with that thought any longer, I must forfeit this race before it even begins. I must leave and lay down my burdens else where, In some other form of fashion,
Posted on: Tue, 14 Oct 2014 03:37:35 +0000
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