LYRIC FOR SALE

By Lionella Atvare

It burns like rum,
When I chug it down my throat,
And the silence in my head,
Is louder then the words,
I can’t comprehend.
I need help,
But no one will understand,
It’s not “just” a poem.

It shouldn’t be that scary, right?
But why I am so scared then?
I don’t have oceans in my head,
And all my forests are dead,
And I am so scared,
For a human, with no talents left,
With mind that is so, silent.
Back then it was easier.

I gave faces to my words,
Creating different kind of worlds,
Put my emotions in to letters,
But now I have some ,leftovers.
And it’s hard to swallow,
When the body is hollow,
And it’s painful to know,
There’s nothing left now.

And I do need help,
But no doctors can help,
There’s no medication,
For an inspiration,
It’s a burn out,
A total black out,
And It’s all my fault,
For I, was too proud.