The words slip through my fingers,
Sentences crash into the ground,
Ideas seem to elude me
As I struggle not to drown,
My mind’s an empty canvas
But I have no ink to spill,
I wander this empty forest
A carpenter who cannot build.

These thoughts must serve a purpose
Each one yearns to be expressed,
I struggle to find their order
So my mind remains a mess,
Clocks tease me as they echo
Through the doldrums of time,
Should have started when I was younger
Instead of far beyond my prime.

A fleeting moment when I was hopeful
That was when I had a muse,
She was kind and she was helpful,
It was her trust that I abused,
Now alone I sit here bankrupt
Staring blankly out to sea,
All my ranting is so desperate,
I’ve lost my objectivity.


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