Eight forty-five of the fifth of eleven

The good feelings I have gets sucked out

by all the bad ones

my inspiration, passion, and drive-

they have all sunk.

and it’s hard, trying to get them back

all the white spaces that used to excite me

now scares me

because I don’t have anything to write

I can’t find the words that needs to get out

I can’t form anything

besides the thought of wanting to get things back

to regain everything that I used to have.

I’m sure I will

I should


But now,

I am in a trap

and I’m trying my best

to survive.


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