Cease-Fire

I've lost grip,
my pen is sauntering about, aimlessly,
like a gypsy
with ink in tow,
and I don't want to face me
alone

but these feelings
I cannot defeat,
they won't succumb~
I'm a hostage to poem
with no imagery,
just blank pages, waving,
like little white flags
in the midst of my war

(Self destruction is so absurd)