A Poem a Day Keeps the Blues Away

I tell myself to write one poem a day,

But today I do not feel like writing poems.

Water and Sand

One mans trash is another mans treasure, but is it the same with creativity or am I just adding more sand to the desert?

I try but it seems like words are just never enough, like their meanings are trapped or just don’t come across, and it’s hard when sometimes I see a person and say, “That person seems so intriguing, bet we’d be friends if words didn’t get in the way.”

So instead I tend to sit in silence, I stare unsure of what to say next, so I say nothing. But the words build up like flood waters behind a damn, and eventually it all breaks and water is let lose on the land, and you find that in smaller quantities it’s manageable and good, but all at once it’s never understood, and so most people leave, to weary to rebuild and you're left with the few souls who refuse to just up and go, the few souls who say “no we can handle it better next time.” But all you see is history repeating itself, you know they should leave but can’t bare the loneliness if they do, still, why, why do they stay, when everyone knows that the only thing you’re good at is letting the words get in the way?