Deep down, a truth I've known,
This poem's path, I must disown.
Words may stumble, meanings stray,
It's clear to me, not meant to stay.

Verses, like whispers, fail to ignite,
Emotions trapped, unable to take flight.
Each line a struggle, a fragmented song,
The muse's absence, painfully prolonged.

Thoughts once vibrant, now shadows wane,
In the depths of doubt, they're lost, insane.
Forcing rhyme, constraining the flow,
A futile endeavor, I must let go.

In the realm of creation, there's no demand,
To forge a poem, uninspired, unplanned.
True artistry flourishes when the heart is free,
To sculpt emotions, unbound and carefree.

So, I release this verse, incomplete,
Acknowledging its fate, bittersweet.
No longer shall I chase this feeble rhyme,
For deep down, I know it's not my time.

Instead, I'll seek the whispers of my soul,
Embrace the truths that make me whole.
For in the vast expanse of life's grand sea,
There lies a poem that's meant for me.

- Ritu Dubey