I lost my inspiration in printed pages,

In books with unending leaves

And letters that rolled off the sheets and spilled onto the ground.

I lost it eavesdropping on pointless arguments

Behind closed doors and walls that were too paper thin

To block the sounds.

I lost it in friendships that wore out before they should have,

In the loneliness and questioning that followed.

I lost it in crowded rooms that left no air to breathe,

Rooms filled with people who were paper dolls,

Each the exact copy of the other, rows and rows of them

Continuing into infinity.

I lost my inspiration in absurd situations and judgement

In collapsible relationships and hate.

I lost it in scattered pieces of dreams untold,

And in mirrors that were all too real.

And now that it’s gone, the peace seems unreal,

The calm, uncomfortable

And the words, empty.








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