Can I once again go in too deep to where I've went before?
Could I ever experience those things that have shaken me down to my core?
Can I ever regain and withhold what comes and what goes?
Could I once again recapture what inspired me before at the most?
Are my words loosing their essence?
Have they faded away into evanescence?
Are my words no longer creating a release for what I feel inside?
Have they ran away and lost their meaning to what they used to provide?
Can my words ever regain what I need them to release for me?
Could my words eventually become my own worst enemy?
Can I ever recover my shattered hopes of piecing back the meaning of what I write?
Could my words be lost forever and fade into a death of an empty light?
Has the passion for my spillage of speech in words depart from my desires to heal my wombs?
Are my words now a crutch unsupported by the fulfillment of relinquishing my language, heading into the poetry of doom?
Has the need of my verbiage to mean something be gone forever,..for good?
Are the uncertainties of the meaning for my purpose to expose my internally mirrored being, messages to others to be misunderstood?
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