My muse, she is dead.
I sit here, staring blankly as the blank screen stares back at me.
My mind so cluttered with thoughts of blogs and tales that will never be, so deafening that I did not hear the wailing dying screams.
A blade of lethargy piercing a long idle chest.
Drip, drip, drip creativity bleeds out and falls away from me.
Arms once lively and dynamic fall limp as the body grows pale.
A light of energy and intuginty slowly fades from her eyes
My muse, she is dead
Slain by my own idleness
Well I ran out of ideas so decided to just type and see what came out....and apparently this came is what came out....not sure how to feel about that.
Oscar Leigh likes this.
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