When Poetry Dies

I broke down and cried,

The day my pen stopped and died.

I broke down in ever present sadness,

The day my writing was trapped in madness.

I broke down in lost confusion,

The day my ideas were just an illusion.

 

I broke down in tormented pain,

The day my words were washed away by rain.

I broke down in flowing tears,

The day my thoughts were consumed by fears.

I broke down in a confused insanity,

The day my mind escaped its sanity.

I broke down and wanted to be dead,

The day my poetic soul was empty in my head.

I broke down, screamed and cried,

The day my poetry left me and died.