75 Lost

My hands are yearning to sketch

My soul is longing to search

Aching to write, my restless mind thinks

To express its feelings, my heart never skips a beat.


Everything I want to do

To start, I know not how to

I will explode if it ain’t done

All the ideas now begone.


Finding who I am

I am who I’m not

Wake me up in this dream

Jack of all trades, master of none.