My inner poet is in prison
I sit for hours trying to write a poem,
but this mental wall has risen,
peace, love, and truth I cannot describe them,
when I try to think my mind is empty
no thoughts coming in or going out,
crumpled pieces paper fly as I get angry,
feeling like I’m in danger and no one can hear my shout,
my lights no longer gives but takes away,
on a different planet and nobody can understand what I say,
when did my love turn into hate,
the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t all that great,
now I’m not devoid of emotion
but when you look at your own train,
it puts you in check,
I’m the gravel, but I was just cruising,
Is it females,
cause I can’t seem to keep one,
maybe it’s the fact I pay too much attention to the details,
or that I try to impress all instead of none,
who are these people saying to me their arms are never closed,
I’m just trying to find real people out of the statues they posed,
Then I realized, I need something, like time needs a clock,
for its you, your are the reason for my writers block,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem