Wrote a poem about not being able to write poems…

        Unseen in a world that exposes everything
I used to be able to express myself
Verbal cakes
They were so sweet to say

I can’t write
Every time I try, it’s a battle
A fight
The faucet of words that used to fill the tub of mind has been turned off.
It is merely a drip drip drip into the drain.

Down it goes
Never to be seen on paper
Never to be said out loud
Never be viewed by another soul
Unseen by my own mind.

I used to sit in my utterances and let the warmth wash over me
Felt them on my skin
Their power was my protein
And fed me from the inside out

I miss my words
I need someone to come along and turn the faucet back on