Lost Muse

It’s hard to see when the colors fade to gray

It saddens me when the colors run away

The muse is gone, inspiration has died

Leaving me empty and depressed inside

Only tears come, and heavily they flow

A bitter seed of distress begins to grow

I’d rather die than go on living

Because my muse is lost and no longer giving

Reviews

[Louise]

I liked this. The shortness of the poem along with the unsophisticated language (as in, how you have chosen not to use large, complicated, wondrous phrases) really fits the theme of writer's block.

[Kyla H]

Hmm, do you have writers blog? I hate that~ anyway, nice write, good luck. xox

[Alexandria Reece]

I hate when that happens, a clever and emotional expression of this unfortunate event where the muse leaves her artist. Seems though you were able to manage a good poem without your muses' assistance! Perhaps you composed this after the return..