Silence creeps in like an intruder in the night
The blank emotions of a poet become evident on the paper
Sullenness, boredom, & writers’ block overtakes the space where creativity and inspiration once reigned
What happened to the ink that formerly flowed so easily and endlessly from an innocent heart?
Where are the words of wisdom generated by a young mind?
Have they disappeared?
Or are they just blurred by the tears of a troubled life?
Either way they are gone, finished, defunct in nature
Only love can restore life to the heart
Love, an emperor of words
The most of all emotions
Perhaps one day these feelings can be revived by said emotion
These hopeful thoughts are interrupted by pessimistic concepts
The cycle begins again
A spark of revelation is once more extinguished by the cold hands of despair
By and by tear stained pages reflect the pain of an artist
But moreover the smile that appears never to let the world see the true anguish of brilliance