I crave for even the faintest touch of inspiration.
Its rivers have seemingly dried up.
The past weeks have silently gone by
Like nameless citizen in a waiting line.
Scattered grey clouds have altered my strategic game plan.
I must dig deep.
An amalgam of taunting voices wittingly took the limelight away
From the notes that should be treasured.
I have been comfortably wrapped in discouragement for far too long.
Words and actions have somehow lost some of their sweetness.
I need to regain my thirst for optimism.
Deaf will be these ears to your serenades.
Blind will be these to your charades.
Cold will be the front that welcomes you.
Scattered grey clouds have weakened my strategic game plan.
I must dig deeper.