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To Many Questions
Aasheianaa
2 May 2005
I sit here to write words I carefully choose,
Thinking and writing sentences which make no sense,
Trying to remember my muse,
But inspirations hide in the past tense.
What happened to me?
Where has my ability gone?
Does creativity get lost with innocence?
Or will it be reborn.
Will I ever see the flower bloom?
Or the sun ever so bright?
or will my castle on black clouds loom?
No matter day or night.
Will ever creativity beat routine?
Will ever satisfaction come with success?
Will a smile ever bee seen?
On the face of life which is such a mess.
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