there are so many things i need to tell you

so many words i need to use, as many risks of boring you

today i needed new words but none come to my rescue

they say that when your muse is turning her back, you never know if it is forever or if it is to leave her place to another one. we are not that different from the birds looking at the sun dying, and not knowing if it will ever come back

he said that a dead poet can’t write whence the need to stay alive

he said not to be afraid of happiness since it doesn’t exist

i know he is right, but if he were not then am i the fool?