these days all I have are ideas
but what is an idea without execution
it is hope that is lost, and the biggest lie you can tell youself
I cannot remember how many times I've thought of the line to a new poem
How many times I reworked it in my mind until it was just right
& then just let it go
We are constantly putting things on the back burner, saving them for later
But who knows when later wont come and all you'll be left with is a bunch of empty ideas
that were dying to be shared, dying to be written down, dying from the moment you thought of them