The Beat is Lost

It seems like I just can't write as of late....

How long has it been since I wrote a poem?

Black and white blood oozes from my heart,
A million thoughts go unspoken, unrecorded
The muse is gone
The inspiration disappears
The pen drops
drops 
My poetry is dead.

It's a dance,
A chaotic ballet of words-
Denial and love
Metamorphism
Light and life
Yet there exists no ballet,
Without the music, the beat.

The beat is lost.

Without poetry, I
Descend
To the depths of the unknown
Dark and dangerous

 

The End

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