I crave for even the faintest touch of inspiration   Its rivers have seeminlgy dried up   The past weeks have silently gone by like the nameless citizens in a waiting line      Scattered grey clouds have altered my strategic game plan   I must dig deep      An amalgam of taunting voices wittingly took the limelight away   from the notes that should be treasured   I have been comfortably wrapped in discouragement for far too long   Words and actions have somehow lost some of their sweetness   I need to regain my thirst for optimism      Deaf will be these ears to your serenades   Blind will be these eyes to your charades   Cold will be the front that welcomes you      Scattered grey clouds have weakened my strategic game plan   I must dig deeper