Tuesday

I am in a rut,

creativity holds no comfort,

instead it blocks me in,

grabbing at my last ounce of strength,

bitter to the thought of forgiveness;  

I am no artist,

I am nothing. 

Those that can see,

see the ugliness 

before true beauty;

I shall wear this mask

for the rest of my days,

masked by the lies,

masked from the truth,

never to be hurt again. 

I am STUCK,

stuck in this rut 

and forgive me if I shout

but, will someone help? 

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