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Fading Ink: A Writer's Emptiness
In the quiet hours of dawn,
She writes with passion, her emotions drawn.
Each word a piece of her soul,
But as time goes by, it takes its toll.
With each passing day, she feels less,
Emotions fading, a silent mess.
Her once vibrant heart now a hollow shell,
As her words lose their magic spell.
No joy, no pain, no love, no fear,
Just empty words, her essence unclear.
The writer's pen grows heavy and cold,
As her emotions fade, a story untold.
Yet still she writes, though feeling bare,
Hoping one day, her emotions will repair.
For a writer without feeling is like a bird without flight,
A soul adrift in the endless night.
© _CB_Ryuu_
She writes with passion, her emotions drawn.
Each word a piece of her soul,
But as time goes by, it takes its toll.
With each passing day, she feels less,
Emotions fading, a silent mess.
Her once vibrant heart now a hollow shell,
As her words lose their magic spell.
No joy, no pain, no love, no fear,
Just empty words, her essence unclear.
The writer's pen grows heavy and cold,
As her emotions fade, a story untold.
Yet still she writes, though feeling bare,
Hoping one day, her emotions will repair.
For a writer without feeling is like a bird without flight,
A soul adrift in the endless night.
© _CB_Ryuu_
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