My poetry has gone dry
The blue sky turned grey
I have nothing left to express
Nothing left to say
Joy has escaped
Through the back door
My substance turned to vape
My creativity fallen to the floor
Is it true that the world
Has an expiry date?
Is it true that my days are numbered
That vapourisation
Is my fate?
I will not shout or cry
I will not even bother
Asking why
A few decades from now
I may be forgotten
Like the bones of dinosaurs
Buried in a cave
Tomorrow I may be
Forgotten
If my impact is so slight
Assigned to the
Bottom
My sensitivity has gone numb
My limbs becoming limp
My reach has been curtailed
My lion courage now a wimp
My speech has been silenced
Imprisoned in a cage
A smoldering pile is what's left
Of my amazingly fiery rage
Is it true that the good guys
Really lose in the end?
Is it true the universe is neutral,
That nature's not really my
Friend?
A few decades from now
I may be forgotten
Like the bones of dinosaurs
Buried in a cave
Tomorrow I may be
Forgotten
If my impact is so slight
Assigned to the
Bottom
~ Gunnar Våken
