I wrote something pretty amazing
I surprised myself
But it wasn’t quite right
Good but unsuitable
Unfit for purpose
Not fit for consumption
Too much, too intense, too unbelievable.
So instead of all that
I’m having to write about how I
Lost my inspiration
Stifled my mind
Wore myself out
Composed a million excuses
None of which are really the truth.
I need to take a break but I’m afraid
You won’t still be there when I get back.
These are all the wrong things to say.
I’ve made too many mistakes
And the chances of survival
Are one in a million.
But that’s still a chance… Right?
And in my notebook
I have many words
That will never be read.