Recycle Bin Poetry

I’m sorry.

*

I just can’t write today.

I’m burnt down, stressed out,

and maybe you can relate.

*

I’ve been shifting words for hours,

creating a mishmash

of messy meter, uncooked metaphors

and images that clash.

*

Paging Dr. Frankenstein,

teach me how to sew

broken

stanzas

back together,

or maybe Dr. Seuss knows.

*

Instead of tearing out my hair,

I sit bitterly and stare

at singsong rhymes

until I want to cry

*

because you’re worth it.

*

Hopefully soon,

I’ll write you

a ballad of deceit and bravery,

recall tales of the voracious muse,

lords of runes,

and pirates lording the sea.

*

But I am starved of something undefined,

and for all that is right,

I hope this monster never sees the light.