I am incapable of writing
So don't try to convince me that  
I possess countless poetic ideas.

Because at the end of the day,  
I see only failures in every attempt.  
And I'm not about to lie by saying that  
each setback helps me along.

Because no matter what,  
                        I feel trapped in a cycle of mediocrity.                        
And I am in no position to believe that  
true inspiration dwells within me.

For even in my darkest musings,  
Am I as uninspired as my doubts proclaim?

I would have
Her memories rather,
For all I gave
Was only a bother.

Dreams are sweet,
Adorned with my hope.
My heart keeps its beat,
With love that cannot cope.

I love eyes.
They are very strong,
And don’t tell lies.
They have this secret song
That keeps them glimmering all day long.
Even when I may fall apart,
They still shine bright, as if waiting for a brand-new start.

Ever lonely in this universe, I think—
Think, think, think—
What am I? What is there to life’s embrace?
A question always unanswered to my nameless face.

Ever inquisitive in this universe, I am lost—
Lost, lost, lost—
What is the purpose of my existence confined?
A soul tethered, a rationale undefined.

Day by day,
I forget more and more,
Memories I adore,
Leads me astray.