Leaving the Artist

Wed, 01/06/2016 - 01:10 -- azsxw1

There is no passion left in these bones
all that was true has left me alone
I beg and plead for it to return
but alas it leaves and I'm unlearned
my stories they lack what could be true
a beginning a middle and you
sadly my passion is gone away
and the stories I told one bright day.

This poem is about: 
Me

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