I lost it

the simplistic nature of poetry

the words no longer pour from my lips

No longer do my message speaks on the shadows of the soul

 

Writers block they call it

Though I call it the end

Never shall my finger tips drip the ink that's read

Instead I let osmosis siphon the last of the poet that resides within

 

The last of my precious emotions displayed

A collectors edition...

Though there might be others,

None will ever come close to what it was

 

I'm dying,

though not anytime soon, this remains true

the ticking clock chimes until the very end

Til the cog's rust over and the springs fall out of place

 

The one's that speak of me will say how great I was

They will tell stories of accomplishments

Only enforcing the facade of the outer me

The masked vigilante known as Jaboris

 

Yet who was "the poet"?

I am "the Poet"

A failure...

A man who succeeds when life is at it's worse

 

When I die there will be no speakers

For poets die as poets live

Full of sorrow, pain, and loneliness

The true essence of poetry...

 

I lost it...

I lost myself somewhere in pretending to be Jaboris

The facade became me and I the facade

it is all that remains, and "the poet" is no more.