Poetry

Joy of Ink (#1210)

Where is the joy of ink?
Likely down the kitchen sink!
I slit both wrists and bled,
Now all joy has up and fled,
I did too much too fast,
To the point, it couldn’t last,
I pushed myself without rest,
And now the ink lacks zest,
All for a new story on the bookshelf,
When I should have cared for myself,
Now I take an overdue step back,
To get me back on track,
It’s a shame all the joy went bad,
Now it’s time to regain the joy I had,
The muse and I are out of sync,
But we’ll fix it with time and ink.

Any Thoughts?

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