|
I crave for even the faintest touch of inspiration |
|
Its rivers have seemingly dried up |
|
The past weeks have silently gone by like nameless citizens in a waiting line |
|
Scattered grey clouds have altered my strategic game plan |
|
I must dig deep |
|
An amalgam of taunting voices wittingly took the limelight away from the notes that should be treasured |
|
I have been comfortably wrapped in discouragement for far too long |
|
Words and actions have somehow lost some of their sweetness |
|
I need to regain my thirst for optimism |
|
Deaf will be these ears to your serenades |
|
Blind will be these eyes to your charades |
|
Cold wil be the front that welcomes you |
|
Scattered grey clouds have weakened my strategic game plan |
|
I must dig deeper |
