• So I used to write poetry
    With the ease of my breath
    I used to weave words
    That'd last life and death

    I obviously still try
    To write with the same desire
    But the words escape me
    Like air from a fire

    I've lost my skill of poetry
    My words have ceased to rhyme
    My heart and skills have dwindled down
    It's such a waste of time

    I write because it's easier
    To say what I mean
    And to write it in a funny way
    And cryptic when it's seen

    I'd like to say I can still do it
    I'd like to say I can rhyme without tire
    But the words still escape me
    Like the air in a fire