~Eyes Wide Open~
I have found myself inept,
Without skill or aptitude.
Haplessly incompetent,
... At best, penciling only that which is crude.
Devoid of substance;
Insignificance.
Without emotion.
No rhyme, no reason, no devotion.
Without beauty, melody, or song;
Some would say, 'Writer's Block'.
I can only confess;
My inspiration was gone.
After searching a lifetime;
For that which painter's paint,
Wars are fought,
The composition of a saint.
Confidence in what was to come;
Believing my gift was my own,
Without realization;
That you are my tone.
My harmony.
My completion.
My synergy.
You are the other half of my soul.
~Mikienna Joi~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem