There’s not much left in me
But I’m able to squeeze out a few tears
So I can at least feel a little still
But I’m so low on inspiration
So every time I go to write something
That feels like it actually means anything
My pen goes dry after the first line
So all I’m left with are nothing
Poems like this – just a ghost
Complaining about mists
Since it’s lost in a fog
& wonders if he really exists
♡Sugar☆World☮ 