the poet’s barren tale
They came for the feast of phrases,
gathered ‘round the wordless flame.
Empty cups clinked, unsated,
as the poet shrugged—his muse unspoken.
“There’s no story here,” he muttered,
his mind a drought-struck desert.
And so they sat, grasping shadows,
a poem promised but never served.
Auracle
Sat 14th Jun 2025 16:43
awww.
It don't have to be that bad.
That's just a media narrative.
Or a narrative that tries to narrow down experiences into words.
I like to find humans who can get me out of my comfort zone. Teach me new things.
Gotta make something out of this life!