Poem #1

The wind blows cold around my head
A million thoughts: the floating dead
So soon they form
So soon they fly
My creative mind
Is starting to die
No talent have I
For stories or rhyme
Just formless ideas that fill my mind
Hurting hurting my poor brain
Driving me crazy
Making me insane
I wish I wish
I had the drive
To make these things come to life
To tell the world of doubt and pain
Love and death
Of sun and rain
To make them smile
And make them cry
Make them happy to be alive
But now all they do is quickly die:
These formless thoughts that run through my brain
That die and float off
Never to be heard again.