Fingers scribbling
Pencil erasing
Heart pounding
Thoughts chasing
Who am I to reveal
The inner makings
Of a madman?
Who am I to conceal
The gratuitous past
Of a phantom?
I am no more than a fool
And a has been
Stuck in a few pages
Of poetry in a trash can
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You are doing okay.We all lose our muse at times. KEEP GOING