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