I don't know
Why I stopped writing?
Is it because I ran out of ideas?
Is it because my emotions are stagnant?
Is it because I don't like literature?
Or is it because you do not matter anymore?

No, that isn't
Because I for sure
Have ideas brimming
Emotions running amok
Still love divulging in literature
And you're most important genre to me
Then why? Why did I stop writing suddenly?

I was a passionate writer for sure
Writing those intense pieces
That had my own heart stirred
Even after reading it several times
So why? Why did I stop at all?

Dear father,
I wish you would know
And tell me what the matter is
But then both of us are in different dimensions
I must have created an abyss
Now, will I ever recover from it?
Or will I just lose myself in these empty words?

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This poem is about how I feel about now and my father have been an essential part of my writings. I find myself less writing and even if I write I find that my works does not satisfy me. I feel like I do not know how to write anymore