Lost For Words
I exercise each night, crunches and press-ups to keep fit.
I cycle every day, to and from my work nice and quick.
I write poems and stories, stuff that comes to mind.
I wish I could write something as others so easily find.
I hear myself diminish below no confidence and fear.
I see my words, committed to paper, soon disappear.
I think long and hard, my thoughts escape their prison.
I deliver new meaning and create my interpreted vision.
I try so conscientiously, to express all that I feel.
I have a six pack and biceps too but my brain is unreal.
I am on the outside, trapped in turmoil, all bull and no cock.
I am on the inside, sinking fast to the tune of a writer’s block.
Copyright Ⓒ 2015 Christopher Patrick Kirk all rights reserved