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All I could write is this much

Why am I unable to pen a cue?
my notes run out of breath, I out of words
pages dead and poems lost
all those midnight scribbles; curl up and suicide?
empty soul and unwritten lines
Thoughts plugged my mind
it can't respirate and is choked to death
there is no moon or tune in my sky 
may be the stars died in me
and that's how I became darkness,
dawdling in this blackhole, unlocking a hundred voids
All I could see is me after myself
All I could hear is the melancholy in my verses
All I remember is things I shouldn't
All I could write is this much.. 

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