Loss of Creativity
You reside behind my eyeballs,
but you most enjoy paralyzing my fingertips.
You feast on the thought-clots
plugging my brain.
You see what I once saw
because you watch what is stolen from me,
as I desperately grasp at what
was digested long ago.
When will my mind be freed?
When will my imagination be reborn?
Copyright © R C | Year Posted 2008
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