Lost Dreams

Writing is something I’ve always dreamt of doing Scribbling down words and phrases on spare paper Pens and pencils tucked away Just so I could write down my ideas at any moment Like they’d be flowing, crashing through my brain Constantly. Then I changed my mind. The thoughts were still coming, but beautifully? Creatively? Worthy? Oh no. Not at all. My thoughts were jumbled. A mess. A wreck, Like a tornado had ripped through my skull Thrown them all around, so nothing would make sense Writing them down doesn’t work anymore Nothing is in order Nothing is in place No longer beautiful, no longer worthy. I’ve changed. My words have changed. So has my mind. I’ve lost my creativity, my desire, my strength I’ve given up on so much For what? I don’t even know. here)