I sit outside and look at the broken leaves dancing in the breeze.
I can hear the bumbles of the bees.
Inspiration, I don't know her.
I've
lost
her.
Inspiration, help me see her.
I pray to the highest and plead to meet her.
I sit inside, clock ticking on the shelf.
I can't read it, never could.
Someone just told me it would look good.
Inspiration was never mine. Inspiration was never on time.
I'm stronger than I was.
I'm happier than I was.
I write about the sad stuff.
I'm in love with the pieces of my heart that I've left on the ground.
This isn't profound, it's fucking loud.
The buzzing isn't helping, the clock isn't ticking.
My happy heart is a ship that's bound for
S
I
N
K
I
N
G
Inspiration:
Well, that's just wishful thinking.
