Lack of Creativity.

On the brink of an epiphany,
Something remains awry.
The right tempo for inspiration
Still doesn't unlock my caged imagination.

So, I sit and I write aimlessly;
Hoping that my simple ideas expand
To unleash my boiling urge to create
Possibly the greatest thing I've done yet.

And as I try to think of what else to say---
More like complain about, but regardless,
I remember an old friend, one who I still miss
Dearly, and she had the talents I once hoped to earn.

Now, this friend always triggered some spark
Of creativity in my head, she constantly drew
Pictures equivalent to how I imagined things.
So sorry, but I will surpass her someday.

But for now, I take a look around,
A deep breath, and I think--how can life be so simple,
Yet it's so hard for me to create a masterpiece for it?
I sigh, and remain in distraught.