Loss of Purpose

The ideas are gone
The inks run dry
I'm no longer me without a pen

The novels written
The words are spent
I'm lost, a traitor in my own skin

This is all I've ever wanted
This is all I've ever known
My lifelong dream feels at an end

I need this like I need oxygen
I need this to feel whole
I need to be me again

So I'll write nonsense
Stories with no end
Poems that don't rhyme

I'll cut my soul open
Leave myself to bleed out
And shake the very last drops of ink from my veins

Maybe somewhere in my hollow shell a pulse will be found
A strong will to live and carry on
A reason to carry on writing and dreaming
So at the very least...

I can be myself and have purpose again