Barren

How I wish to write

The terrible things of my mind.

But whether men or mail,

At the pen I always fail.

Age and mind are stale

They do not even wail,

They play with themselves

Getting old on the shelf.

Oh! How I wish to write

Ye confusions of my heart

But no one knows my plight

I'm deeply torn apart.

Tell strings of the puppet

Move up and down.

To and fro goes the muppet

Without a single frown.

To skin- white or brown

Waits for the invisible crown.

The pen stays still,

The eye stares at will.