Wanna Be

This used to be easy for me.
Words flowed from my fingers
Once.
Now I sit and stare at the fourth draft of whatever
And wonder where my muse went.

I look back on yesterday, the day before, last week.
Nothing of huge consequence had occurred.
What about last month?
My life an empty page, chapter, volume.

Others around me are writing so fast their wrists burn with unquenchable fire.
Others look at their neighbors' papers for some answer to their own personal traumas.

When's it my turn?
I sing Ariel's theme and produce a laugh.
I invent songs I never write down,
I start poems I never finish,
I implement goals I never see through.

Something great better find me.
And that same, produced laugh reenters my mind.