What have I lost that motivates me?
My smallest delights have all been cut free
Where is that spark that used to shine?
That lit up the future that used to be mine
Fingertips slip clawing up the wall
As the floor underneath begins to fall
Nothing from heaven comes from above
Not even feathers from the wings of a dove
Words collapse as interest wanes
Attention is as short as the lessening pain
Lethargy sets in quickly barely able to finish
The void swallows whole as I diminish
© 2011 Michael Yost