Did I Stop Being a Poet ?
Why did I stop writing?
Or did I just stop being a poet?
Did I lose my heart to jackals?
I guess not, but why is it so?
The words nolonger flow...
Whenever I try, I just hold my pen
And stare blankly into space,
Not even the silliest idea comes to mind.
What changed on the way?
Did I lose myself, while picking the pieces?
Or did I just watch myself crush into a wall?
I lost myself long ago,
While picking broken pieces from my past-
I didn't even think of looking around,
Because if I had looked, then I would have noticed
That I had lost my way, into darkness.
I walked all ahead to a point
I couldn't even recall the entrance...
Now all I do is sit, and reevaluate
Waiting for the sun to rise,
So I can find myself, pick up
Find the path that lost me to darkness
Then find my way back,
To where dutifully I belong.
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