Colors once seemed brighter
I could taste sunshine
Though I sometimes could not catch my mind
I felt alive, brilliant, shining
I have a hundred shades of green in my pencil box
But I can�t find the one that would color the world I see
They are all too bright
Is it wrong to wish for more?
Why must I trade sanity for the gift?
Does all inspiration come at such a high price?
How much am I willing to pay for my former glory?
Then again one must always wonder if there really was any glory,
Was the greatness just part of the delusion?
I would think yes but I have read my own words
I don�t have the same fire in my belly
The words no longer fall to the page unbeckoned.
Inspiration seems to only follow my tears onto the page

I wish you Peace

~alison~

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