Inspiration is dead,
swallowed whole by reality.

Do you ever wonder where wonder has gone?
Who stole our imagination?
And when was value was stripped from virtue?

Tears have flooded the river of empathy
and drowned the innocent boys,
their lanky arms and legs
swept under by the current,
their ruddy cheeks turned blue
from bruises and coldness.
A smile escapes,
awkwardly personal,
all knowing,
ever fading.

I've tried so many times,
to copy and paste my thoughts
onto this stark whiteness.
To bring them to the light of
truth.
To expose my weakness.
Inspiration is lost...

"The first time I saw you
you were chasing down a cyclone
all alone in the field...
I never thought you'd wind up chasing me."