I pray to never be inspired again

and that my poems come to an end
that ink and pen be cast to hell
to there remain. Tis just as well
For poems are words and nothing more
words with no action. meaningless chore
I pray my poetry is through.
For it has left me undone, true.
For poetry it is a lie.
May my poetry collapse and die.
They say that it can re-spark youth
But thats a lie. In this, no truth.
May my pen and quill just leave
so i may be here and just grieve.
this is my prayer yes for me.
my final poem. just let me be