My Muse Must Have Died

The words
The tone
The sequential order of life has changed
I’ve moved from the small southern town
That once provided the depressing grunge
That fueled my creative side
Now I’m here
In the Midwest
Where there’s dust and wind
There are no green thumbs here
Only natural grocers
Where the high class snobs shop
But i’m happy here
So why can’t I put pen to paper and live
Must my soul be in torment
To weave words into something better than myself


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