Without You
I haven’t written
In my journal
For a number of days.
It seems hard to put thoughts
In a gift to explore
My inner self.
But I believe
It all boils down
To the power
Left behind in a lyrical rhapsody.
Maybe I would
Feel better if I could
Connect expressions to paper?
Even though it is in my midst,
Nobody is here
To listen to what I have to say.
Isn’t it strange,
If not ironic
That talking to myself
Is a communicative breakdown
That needs a fix?
If this is
writer’s block,
Then maybe the inspiration
It once had,
Won’t return
To leave a part of me
In this journal
Without you?
Writers, heroes, stars, leaders
Connecting to the above excerpt.
Without being to egotistical,
Somebody would surely bond
To the fact that writing poetry
Is about digging into your life.
That I was a little crazy
Because I have to do this,
Then would that be enough
To leave something behind
Will only enhance my dreams?
The energy of my existence.
And since I am influenced,
I have the heritage within
