How can I forget?
The passion I once possessed.
As my pen hit the paper
Such words and thoughts came alive
Dancing accross the page
Gentle cursive strokes in dark black ink
Telling the stories
I have lived
Demonstrating the life I have displayed
My words would dance
With festivities
Hoping to become something
To eventually make words heard
Soul screaming out
Yelling for a break
My pen fell the ground
Broken dreams
Barely moved with broken words around them
And talent as it died slowly.
