sub-par poetry

Empty words, can no longer ease this pain. I sit in wonder, why this disdain. My burn intense, soul scorched and scarred. keep fear at bay... any hope of curing. Sub-par poems, those empty words, loosing their thrill and hold on my being. at least for now, while my mood is shot. this emotion, is pain. can it really have worth young days still. one can only sit and hope. I sit here, gazing blankly at the wall, alone and cold, another sub-par poem. to fail me so.