Once, poems tumbled from my lips with passion,
A blessed, endless waterfall of emotion.
I feel so much,
Yet say so little.
Why?
Tears for years were never shed.
I was afraid the well had dried.
I miss the dry spell.
I loathe this deep well.
Why?
I want to sing a melodious song
I feel it on the tips of my heart and tongue
But the words escape me,
And the melody haunts me.
Why?
The answers to life’s blackest enigmas
Were once within my confident touch;
Now I awaken from enigmatic dreams
Wishing to write and yearning to sing,
But all I can do is ask one thing…
Why?
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