Looking around for inspiration
Nothing seems to fit like I want it to
Not even an alliteration
Every line seems like its own taboo
Looking for rhyme, looking for reason
My mind is a blank sheet not wanting to be filled
Making such dreadful work seems like treason
It's as if my thought are permanently chilled
All I want is a colorful conception
Something to breathe life into
A little truth, a little direction
Something to makes ones thoughts go askew
Sooner or later I will be whole
And my mind will be done off its confused stroll
