I've been marooned here for the past 4000 years.
I've heard the wars and the endless building above.
The shadow canals of the stars are now broken.
I can only fly about at night here.

The sun is my destructor.
Light of decay and chaos.
They're no shadow canals here to protect me.
I must heed the night and listen for the bird's morning calls.

As the birds sing.
I must get to safety.
Bathe myself in shadow.
Away from the sun.

I have studied far and wide.
The knowledge here depicts me as an angel.
I will use this knowledge to feed.
And they will let me without consequence.

Dark caverns of cranium so vast they get lost in the immense black abyss

There are zero ways to depict the frustration that writer's block is

The sentence fragments stab wounds into soul until blood is gushing out

The only method I know how to start mending is to verse something sane

A poem that can untangle the knot of multiple conflicting emotions winding it's way through my skeleton