Abandoned

Real, abandoned ideas, 

Which were once

Sprouted from the soils

Of my mind oh dear, 

Fertilized by creativity

I am undeserving, 

They were reverential,

These same ideas lie deserted, 

And squished

Under the rust of procrastination,

Screaming for emancipation,

From this lazy acidic environment,

But my mind do circumvent 

Passing by their vicinity

In a weird somnambulant

With a petty acceptance

That they are better off

Without my damned parenthood

And the incompetent nurture.

But they do call out for me

Every now and then

Reminding me of something left incomplete

Leaving me with boolean choices

Should I ignore them,

Abandon them, again?

Embrace them?

Or... Smother them for good?

None of the above said my ambiguity

Said my apathy.

"Rekindle" 

A war cry,

Screeched by my waning passion

"Maybe," said I.

Yes, maybe.