Wish I may, wish I might,
take back the best laid plans
I made last night.

All these thoughts,
and ideas,
bursting within.

Yet, when pen hits paper,
they grow so silent.
A faded shadow of grandeur.

Wish I may, wish I might,
take back the best laid plans
I made last night.

It comes out lacking emotion.
Dialogue flows well,
but falls apart in the space between.

Endings and beginnings,
are easy enough to find.
It’s the middle where I’m trapped.

Wish I may, wish I might,
take back the best laid plans
I made last night.

I try and slow down, to no avail.
Try and rush,
and the farther I get away.

Over-plan, and over analyse.
Eventually I give up.
Crumple it up and walk away.

Wish I may, wish I might,
take back the best laid plans
I made last night.

In the dark I hear my muse.
Telling me such rich tales.
Beckoning me to try again.

So, against my best judgement,
I close my eyes and plan,
In the morning, I’ll try again.

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