Sitting down to write a poem
I find my mind goes numb
Nothing comes forward
So
I use my stomach
I reach into the gut of my being
And wrench out stilted clichés and romantic endings
I once thought necessary
Now
As the words tumble forward awkwardly from my hand
I find myself caught up in the thought of it
Far too entrenched to change what I’m writing
But trying so hard to create something
Something bigger than myself
Something to make up for the lost wars
The indelicate mask of my social existence
NOW
Please
As I stop myself writing another sad poem
Hoping to say something real
To someone
To myself