Writers Block


My brother was forced from home
I tried to ask, "why?"
The seeds of our love were sown
I received no reply

A bit of my soul has died and so has my heart
I wonder about you even after all these years apart
And when I wake up screaming after all these hellish dreams
The tears fall oh my streams that form to rivers and seas.

This is only a simple introduction
I find it hard to speak clearly,
To simply function at this state im too weary.

I lost the one person whom destiny chose for me.
I strayed from our path and burnt our whole history.
The fault of mine is so sublime
I brought disaster to what was fine
Created needless craters and peaks
Everyday we were buried in dead bodies.

So you turned around and played my tune
To the strings of your guitar
Only I after I made the beat
To our battles and scars

I'm so lost I can't find out how I'm suppose to begin this piece
My art form has been silenced for I can hardly speak
Maybe just maybe, there's such a thing as happy.
However when I reach it, it deserts me for melancholy.

I can't even write a simple story.
My own fatigue will not allow it.
Everyday is a chore to live through
The constants have been doubted
My thoughts are clouded
As though they ever counted

Even when I use my left to write down our tale in the sand
Your cold hand chills me so that no man may understand
The lost touch and lost tears that once were so frequent
All the love and the lies and the bitterness in descent.
Perhaps I should be content.

Perhaps my smile is solemn?
Perhaps my spirit is broken?
My body has sunken,
Driven to insanity by unknown devotion.
All of my uncertainty in one entity,
How do I begin this poem?


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741