there are times when I really feel the weight of my pen
the fire inside me dim
the flame of creation flickers
my pale heart cannot handle this loss
like I’ve emptied my bag
given out all my gifts
but somehow, inspiration slithers it’s way through
and suddenly I can feel the shade
coursing a rush through my veins
allowing the possibility to explore me and creation itself
to give meaning in a hopeless existence
even if I know it doesn’t matter in the end