a poets demise

What has happen to the words,
Why do they not just flow,
Where are lines to write,
Does anybody really know?

He sought to be a poet,
And some were really great,
But he sits in silence,
None can he contemplate,

The desire is still yearning,
With inspiration there is a cost,
Seek that within the soul,
To find essence that was lost,

Search ye for you’re your ink,
And strive to try again,
For nothing is ever lost,
It’s only locked within,

Let the words fall where they may,
Engulf the emotions that’s sown,
Write to your hearts content,
The answer will become known,

Trouble not your heart,
At criticism others may lead,
For each gains something different
In the manner in with they read.