My Writing

For several days now I have been meaning to write
Plenty of wishful thoughts, in my mind take flight
But I could not make myself write, my pen is quite elusive
Because inspiring words and rhymes, to me, has been evasive

I suspect that complacency is the strong culprit
And complacent I have been, I must admit
And this is a good thing that I have prayed for earnestly
Contentment, peace of mind, serenity, I wished for sincerely

Because for a recent time back I have been quite sad
Deep within my heart I have felt something so bad
My mood has been pensive and oh-so-gloomy for a while
That by pretence only I can render a smile, a sad smile

Looking back when I was sad, I recall I can write
My pen continuously jots when my fancy takes flight
How come I can write truly when I am grieving?
Words flow beautifully and naturally when I am hurting

I can’t count how frequent in that time I write so
When I read my poems it brings back what I’ve been through
That old feeling of helplessness and sorrow remains
But the intensity is gone, no torment when it rains

And I just don’t want to be sad anymore
My heart is weary and could not understand what pain is for
So the thoughts that I have aplenty will just have to wait for that day
When I can put them into touching, mind-crafted writings, perhaps someday