What is this feeling of dread

Have I left her, perhaps dead

Words would once flow forth

In gouts and even rivers worth

Now only a trickle and spittle

Leaving me lost in the riddle

It’s left me hollow and cored

certainly not that I’m bored

I’ve sinned against myself

It’s left me utterly bereft

I feel so very transparent

Why couldn’t I be clairvoyant

I abused my own creation

Lost in some dumb deviation

I don’t deserve inspiration

Theres no redemption

Only a little consolation

Please give me imagination

I really need this connection

This mask is fractured and weak

It’s really only skin deep

I’m still hoping to see

But I’m clouded and beat

Am I really still…me?

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