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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

When ones writing motivation declines and its purpose as an outlet of expressing emotions fades after facing a series of changes in life.

The emptiness is my fear
This blank and hollow heart
Infinite ideas I have in mind
Slowly fading, vanishing as I close my eyes

Reminisce the beginning
Smother in colors that mixes in the air
Now it's all smoke, black and white
Filth draped in an unwilling soul
Her hands shocked with numbness
A small hole on a door that peers to the wonders
Is here concealed of storms of reality
The writer grips to the last living paper.

Submitted: September 18, 2018

© Copyright 2022 Shie M.. All rights reserved.

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