A Lament For My Muse

 A Lament For My Muse!

Still recounting on this pain

I feel deep inside my veins

My heart beats in vain

Each time I sit to write

The old me feels dead

Something I once dread

And my pen

Feels blunt at its end!

It no longer falls

The dust is dry

It no longer calls

My name when I cry

All I got now is a pen

Blunt at its end!

They no longer flow

The tears I held

No longer burn;

My heart is cold

And so is my pen

Blunt at its end!

She no longer sings

Those songs she sang

Every night in the rain, 

That sting

Of her voice in my brain 

Is what I miss everyday! 

For she insisted to stay 

When I sent her away!

Surely may my pen

Remain blunt at its end!

We no longer talk

On cold nights 

Or when I'm out for a walk 

The bold lights 

Stay out for weeks

And my pen goes so weak

Its dwindling ink at a bleak

And this pen-life seems to end!

My lines feel broken

As they whisper in bitter cracks

They are no longer spoken 

For they grope with cold hands

Through my lonely abandoned art

And speaking in low hoarse tone

This energy seems gone

Someone come hold my heart!

For my pen feels broken

And blunt at its end!

-timmypoetlines -