Vanished Inspiration

http://writinghood.com/writing/vanished-inspiration/

You and me, we are not the same,
so brokenhearted with so much to gain.
Paralyzed emotions cannot find the pain,
reaching for completion is such a strain.
My balance beam is uneven,
I feel as though my heart stop breathing.
All my ambition got up and started leaving,
I am asking my courage to give me a clear reason.

It told me I was writers sick and stuck inside a black hole,
imprison for a while until the light comes to my soul.
Opens up wide like a white painted super bowl,
bringing views to my mind; to my rainbows pot of gold.
Listen very clearly before the thought slips back in,
it will come extremely rapid so I hope you are holding on to a pen.
The agonizing pressure in the middle of this lions den,
I've lost my train of thought, I will have to commence all over again.

It is complicating just to think of something that is creative,
especially if my urge is yearning something innovative.
Restless nights, levitate over the horizon, I cannot wait until
the sunlight in my eyes can help create a thrill.
Like a muzzle on my intellect averting from relief,
among a firm grip on my idea, quizzical my belief.