I'm lost for Words

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My poetry once had great meaning to me
but now the words lose me.
I play and pun and think and run
Yet the words don't choose me.

The breeze once gave me rhythm
and the moon was my great motivation
But now the free space between thought and pace
Holds me in a thick white solitary.

Poetry is more than just words and flavour
Its a feeling, a calling a worldly endeavour
And in its confusing comprehension,
Poes our pains then sleeps our intention.

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