Sonnet 11 – Breakdown

Alas! As if my brain had turnt to sludge
I’ve lost my will to write; each lonely drop
Of creativity won’t spark, won’t budge
They each insist they cease, desist, and stop

My lexicon’s diminished, torn to shreds
I’m scarce able to rhyme, resigned to plod
Along all day until it’s time for bed(s)
And write, ‘blah blah, blah blah, blah blah, blah blah’.(d)

Not long before the meter will succumb
To frazzled, twisted thoughts that can’t quite form
Coherent, structured sentences dumb
They make so little sense anymore

Perhaps I’ll turn to reading now instead
Perhaps somehow it can reset my head

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