Kites and the lack of inspiration

If ever I had the words to write, they now escape me

like a kite caught in a huricane, the dance was brilliant
yet, the string could not withstand the force
and thus a child's dreams blew away

I stand tongue wagging feeling the phantom phrases drip like sweat

bitter acrid memories of beautiful things
and yet, I should have known better
to tempt the anger of Mariah
to test the force of her fury

such is life
and as the kite spun away into the horizon
burgeoning with a sun who could not hide her face
I retreated with tears in my eyes
and only a quiver on my lips

never again would this boy run a kite in a storm, never again would the pen feel so secure in my hands

such is a poet, lost to what the world takes away, and ever cursing themselves
for the negligence that allowed it to happen