DEAD BEE

The dead bee lays still,
My unused ink in the quill.
Words lay dormant in my mind,
My heart confined.

Pages blank and untouched,
Ideas lost, crumpled, and crushed.
The muse has fled, the well dry,
My soul left to die.

The world awaits my art,
Yet I cannot make a start.
The blank page mocks my plight,
As I struggle to ignite.

My pen poised in mid-air,
My heart filled with despair.
I cannot find the rhyme,
As I sit here frozen in time.

The dead bee reminds me,
Of a life once buzzing, prim.
Now silent and still,
My writer's heart to fill.

I search for inspiration,
For a spark of creation.
But nothing comes, I feel stuck,
A poet lost, out of luck.

The dead bee reminds me,
Of the beauty in creation dim.
The importance of my art,
In a world that's torn apart.

I must rise from the ashes,
And embrace my inner flashes.
The ink must flow once more,
And my words will be the core.

The dead bee, a reminder,
Of the power in my binder.
I'll write again, I'll take flight,
And my words will shine so bright.

©Bold Geo
© prolific.art.faction

#WritcoQuote #writco #lifestyle #motivational #inspirational #writcoapp #writer #instagram #lifelesson #growth @Writco @Yatiwrites