Why is that
To be content
Is to be uninspired.
To be happy
Is to be no longer
Searching for the right words
To put into this rhyme.
Does one write because they are unsatisfied?
And when that satisfaction is sated
The desire to hunt after that rare fantasy
No longer burns at the soul?
Or perhaps it has become
Completely unimaginable
That one could be living a life
So vastly different to their own.