What metaphor will I use this time?
What is it that's inside me?
Constantly, I'll use rhyme,
to express my inner struggle.
I feel just like a mime,
never to win this battle.
I mimic this and that,
But do words have the power?
The strength?
On paper, everything seems so very flat,
but when given water, my poems begin to flower.
They gain a dimension or two,
the words are given meaning.
The poem might question why life is blue,
but will it be same in the evening?
Where comes this drive from, what motivates me...
Is it the same for you when I'm inspired,
And how long do they last, to what degree?
or are my words swiftly expired?
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