Uninspired
my pen today is slow and weak
so bleak of what people seek
of love it see's empty lines
only memories of what's far behind
my patriot lies in a silent grave
unremembered are the boast he made
my pride has fears of being attacked
unmoved by silence and hearing he lacks
my eyes see beauty but prefers the unwritten
my heart still desires but has not been smitten
my interest have waned because of work
my crazy wild side won't go berserk
of life I have nothing to say
this barrenness of feelings won't go away
even who I love is a mystery
is she dead, living or even near me
but a poet lives inside of me still
waiting to write what it will
seeking a greatness from words distilled
fancily written as though from a quill
Copyright © John Loving Iii | Year Posted 2014
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