Each time I’m nearly there
Something else appears
For reasons that I’m unaware
Awaking sleeping fears
There’s no way that this far gone
That I can contemplate quitting
Trying to write, something’s wrong
Just staring, blankly sitting
I know you heard it all before
I know, to you, it not news
My enjoyment is becoming a chore
I’m afraid that I might lose
My days are spent not doing much
My mind is slowly numbing
I’m barely able to stay in touch
Not sure if going or coming
I’m clutching at next year’s straws
Will I stifle my new content?
In something else, I’ll sink my claws
Will I be able to literary invent?
I’ll attack my remaining days
With poise and positive thoughts
The epilogue to my rhyming ways
Will be my greatest retort
This year I will not fail
Grateful for all my haves
I’ve enjoyed my writing trail
This year was definitely Gav’s
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