I used to write oceans of words and mountains of thought–
I could make galaxies collapse or a universe expand–
I could puzzle your mind or tie your stomach in knots–
Let you fly through the clouds or set your feet on dry land.
I would provoke the fears in your mind from where they once hid–
Tear the seams of your soul with just a single line–
Pour hope where you’re empty like no one else did–
Pull the strings of your heart by playing off mine.
I can’t keep your heart beating when I can’t find my words.
I can’t keep your interest when I’m broken and dying.
We fight battles with guns and I’m left with dull swords–
I can’t win you over when you can’t see I’m trying.
My words are lost at sea with no hope on the horizon–
My thoughts lost in a maze with walls all around.
So can I be rescued when I don’t know what I’ve done?
Is there hope for the hopeless who don’t know to be found?
I used to write from my heart, the things that mattered to me–
I would show you my struggles and battles I’d fought-
I’d express the thoughts in my mind and what I might be–
But now I can’t seem to pen a single thought.