The appeal of writing poetry has gone on vacation, leaving no trace behind
I know this is summer, but it really isn’t the time
I would expect my free roaming to cultivate creativity
Or so I would think
A great blanket has smothered my inner fire of humanity
To do, create
Although embers still remain, the catalyst is nowhere to be found
Doing ANYthing feels like work
Resistance counters my every action
It’s the curse that takes us all
Paired with the gift of life is the curse of suffering
Erik's Poetry 