bicycleofthoughts

I wield my pen, but words are not on the paper

They are in my mind and then they are vapour

Once it was easy when I could feel some emotions

Now they are nothing but some unknown notions

People expect me to pump out some good rhymes

But now I live as a machine in these fast times

Machines cannot produce a fine piece of art

For they cannot feel even if they are smart

I want to feel but I only feel alone

Where is everybody and where have they gone?

I have my music and sometimes it makes me feel

And after five minutes heart closes its seal

When I feel like crying, the tears don’t come out

Then, on my humanity I have a doubt

If I am going to be like this for the rest of my life

What is the point of even being alive?

Don’t worry, I will carry on

Until I decide not to and then I’ll be gone.