death of a would be poet

it’s broken
the words are falling
now deaf ears

all i have
are the words
they have abandoned me

poetry has died
my unresponsive

i have stopped dreaming
of her
of joy
of happiness
of anything

left with the emptiness

new year
same depression
no hope
just this familiar despair

the last abandonment
the broken fool
is when
he has finally
abandoned himself

i’m sorry

but the song
is not one
i feel like singing
any longer

the death of a would be poet

10 thoughts on “death of a would be poet

          1. Those damn things never stop screaming. If people only knew . . .

            I hear you though. I was working on a piece yesterday morning and all I could do was question what the hell I was even doing. What am I trying to say? Why am I even trying to say it? Who cares? I don’t know.

            Liked by 2 people

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