You may want to avert your eyes

Remember what I said a few months back about irregular line breaks? Yeah. This is your advance warning.

I went far too long without writng anything, and now the task of coming up with words worth saying seems incredibly daunting. So I set myself a project: metered poetry. A series of 13 rhondels, specifically, hoping that such a clearly defined structure would help me work through the troubling lack of inspiration. Anyhow, it's proving to be slow, agonizing work, and I'm trying to find ways to encourage and goad myself. So, here's the first of the set, and the only I've actually completed so far.

Shame

So why do you keep telling me
How small, how helpless I’ve become?
My plans and hopes, all come undone
With all the things I’d tried to be.
A graceless fall to bended knee
And so much more before I’m done.
So why do you keep telling me
How small, how hopeless I’ve become?

The precious past where I’d come from,
A loadstone weight for dragging me.
So trapped inside I didn’t see
My weapons lost, your battles won,
How small, how helpless I’ve become.