Black on Black Arts
The Demise Of A Poet - Poem by Black on Black Arts
Time slowly ticks tick, ticking away.
Sitting at the table staring at a blank piece of paper.
Pen in hand tapping tap, tapping on the table.
It echoes as it resonates thru the house.
His inspiration washed away like seashells on a beach.
Eyes red as the tears fall it wets the paper that was once considered his canvas.
Creativity gives way to frustration.
Liquor becomes his aspiration.
Nothing else matters as he drinks the pain away.
Laying down bottle in hand.
Giving up on his one true love.
Feeling a pain in his chest he holds his heart his eyes shutter and close.
The bottle falls.
His body goes limp.
An eerie sounds looms acroos the house.
The time slowly continues to tick, tick away
Comments about The Demise Of A Poet by Black on Black Arts
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You