There is not much hope
for an unemployed poet
when nobody cares for
the words that he’s wrote.
Day after day trying
to come up with ideas
only to throw them away
for no good reason.
Unhappy that he has
no story to tell
he retreats further
into his lonely shell.
Words are his life but he is
unable to get them out,
a prisoner of his shyness
that fills him with doubt.
No one seems to
understand what it’s like
to have so much to say only
for your words to go on strike.
He prays that someday
an idea will strike like lightning
to fill up his pages with
words that are exciting.
