It's hard to write with passion
When no passion you feel
it's hard to write about love
when there's none to be found.
It's hard to express emotions
when all you are is numb
the stinging on your wrists
the only sensation you feel.
it's hard to write about the flowers
and rainbows in the sky
when winter is come
and everything is dead.
Does that withered flower
Feel anything at all?
does it remember living
through the summer and spring
Then dying in the fall.
did it cry
When the leaves began to change
Perhaps knowing
It's life would soon retire
Maybe in the spring
you should ask and if it replies
Be sure to write a poem
about it's soft reply.
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