Left Unfinished

I've written only a couple of pages
Its endless, spending on gazes
And wasting ink on paper with no rainbow
The story was burned by a flaming arrow
So, it's left unfinished

Desperately trying to find inspiration,
Euphoria, knowledge, creation
I have all those ideas in my mind
Living yet the story soon decline
So, again, it's left unfinished

Using dynamic shapes and flexible words to plot
A whole new story, then I pause and thought
Fantasy, dreams, reality, themes... maybe?
Only a few words written brought me to misery
So, again and again, it's left unfinished

The pencil rolled off the desk
The messy papers were grotesque
Every story was left unfinished
So, I had this poem published

[[ I could never finish writing a story, except short ones but still....SIGH. Bright-side is that I finished this poem. Haha. Now why can't writing stories be easy like that? ]]