dried up flowers
Uninspired and running dry, like a river that people thirst for,
I sit alone and wonder why I can’t hold my pencil right anymore-
to write anymore-
the paint drips from my brush as if it were crying,
but there is no canvas for it to fall upon, only my empty mind.
A wall-
I have met and yet to figure out how to climb.
Time-
So much of it and yet it is so fine.
Lacking so much motivation that I can’t even keep flowers alive-
Like a river, I’m running dry.
Like a river, I’m running dry.
