Here I wait for this numbness to turn into my pain,
Because I desperately want to write again.
Write out my mind, write out my heart,
But the problem is I don’t know how to start.
Should I write about my deepest darkest thoughts and my fears,
Or should I write about my enemies or my peers?
Should I write about how I spent a year without writing,
Or should I write about how my pen and my thoughts were constantly fighting?
Every time I thought to write something new,
I fell short of words with ideas very few.
Lost in the labyrinth of words with no way out,
Back to square one, empty headed, still clueless of what to write about.
But today I pick up right from where I left,
Bringing back the motivation which was once subject to theft.
And now I’ll write as much as I can,
Because without poems, I don’t even know who I am.