0 - Unfinished poetry 19

Unknown


I’ve given you two thousand poems.
It’s time you gave something back.
I’ve lost my mojo for creating.
My soul is no longer solid black.
It’s grey in parts, like my private thoughts.
No longer reveal, do I even feel,
Like I should carry on writing,
Or give into the fighting,
And surrender myself to my lack of wealth
And just move on, get gone, be done.


But before I go, I have a hand or two to show,
So here’s my soul.  Let thee be judged if you are worthy,
Of interpreting me,
Or am I still leaving you confused, like I used to,
Or am I just see through.


My truth is your truth, so here at long last,
Are my unfinished poems of the past.
Take all I have, so I have nothing left to give;
Not even tidbits.  You empty me,
But maybe if you do critique,
I could find a way to write new poetry.


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