Matt Brundage

My Poetic Well

My poetic well of words is dry
It's so pathetic, I think I'll cry
For one long year I've mulled about
With no ideas to write about
I'm sitting here upon my bed
and wondering why I'm filled with dread
Fear of failure keeps this pen
from breaking into song again
That's it – I'm through with rhyming rhymes,
counting words and keeping time
This is the last one I will write
I need to rest – farewell, good night