To the muses I beg on my knees

O muses of inspiration, why have you forsaken me? my verses have no emotion, I'm here frustrated and sad.

I revise and cross out endlessly looking for perfection but nothing good comes out, in the end I only feel disappointment.

The existential themes that usually delight today fail to take flight, they refuse to co-operate

I look out of the window glued watching the light drizzle that has softened my brain leaving it empty and without sparkle

Some mischievous muse has eaten my inspiration, for playing this trick on me with no compassion or heart

So the hours I squander fruitlessly without any poetic prowess, I want to write but I can't get anything done I can't even achieve victories by rhyming so cute

To the muses I beg on my knees to give me back my lost wit or these verses will go astray and the children will continue to be dull and dull