I have not been able to write
Since, I don’t know what happened to me.
It’s like, no words; anymore, can accompany me.
I have a mind that just thinks about random shit,
My mind is thinking how the fuck can I even write like this.

I feel like I have nothing to say
I feel like I ran out of bullshit to write
There are no more feelings
Just imaginative worlds that I try to create
And once I’m done, I’m like
Why don’t I just delete this shit?

Why bother, who listens,
Why care; I stopped.

I guess people just occupy themselves with shit to do
It probably just makes the day easier to get through
I mean, you start writing and you develop a story
But if you wouldn’t have started, nothing would’ve changed
Your mind would probably have thoughts like; let’s go get drunk,
Fuck this sentimental shit or just go get laid.

It’s only a poem; who gives a shit
I just might as well just fucking quit.
I can’t express thought, at least not anymore
I figure, I should just find a different hobby which can give back more

When you write a poem, you are writing down your thoughts
But if you have nothing to say, it’s like looking into a dull shade of gray
A poem without density or emotion is like a painting
With no color, a smile with no grin
And life without its pain

A wise man once said, “If you have nothing good to say,
Then just keep it to yourself”
What he should’ve said was
“If you have nothing good to say, then go write
It on a piece of paper and make it a poem because the only person who can
withstand your bullshit is you.”

 
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