A work in progress

Work in progress, it's hamhanded, sophomoric and banal, but it's all I've got left inside me, I'm losing my words, losing my spark... it's the worst part of this ordeal...

My glowing spark of creation, the fire that burned inside

I feel it gently slip away

Uninspired numbness creeps so slowly in

It stalks me night and day

I fear the day that I awake 

And know my fire died.

I want to rage against this, to fight and beat my chest

To scream that it's unkind

But here I sit, a sullen mute

Perhaps I've lost my mind

Or maybe after all my life

What I want is just to rest.

Author's Note

Work in progress, it's hamhanded, sophomoric and banal, but it's all I've got left inside me, I'm losing my words, losing my spark... it's the worst part of this ordeal...