So like....poem? Consume the literature voids. *note: I am still going to be inactive the majority of the time whilst I try and build a schedule and some motivation. ----------------------------- The fire has dimmed. ----------------------------- There is nothing I find fun anymore Anything I try and do is simply a bore My passions are gone The urges I feel are hard to not act on I am often unconscious, gone, asleep Drowning in my sorrow whilst I weep I hide and try to fight it The things I feel; they hurt to admit My flow is no more My skill is not what it was before I feel no need to write I no longer get the delight There is no more adrenaline There is nothing genuine No joy Just the need to destroy I hate the pieces most would consider art They don’t come from the heart I wish I had no pressure I wish I didn’t put it on myself “for good measure” I cannot explain All that I feel is pain My apologies will never be enough for me I cannot guarantee That I will continue my art, my passion Let’s hope it’s not fast fashion The fire is dim Everything’s grim The light of my dreams no longer burn I do not know if I shall return The fire has dimmed.
