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Death of a Poet.

I tried to inspire myself enough to write something witty

It was no use

my brain was bone dry-robbed of any and every idea brave enough to make its way to the page

I wondered if this madness would ever end or if i should continue on the path of barreness

I felt empty and the air refused to fill my lungs

At some point the words will find me or I will die trying to write. 

◄ Rot.

Comments

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Robert Mann

Tue 25th Feb 2025 17:18

And breathe... Jordyn - the blank page can be so cruel. So glad you didn't let it beat you. You are definitely a living poet.

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