Uninspired - by Priya

Nothing, the sound of locusts fill the air, playing sweet somethings to their counterparts, but still nothing. Nothing to inspire us, to make us worthy, meaningful, purposeful. My head feels heavy now, like an engine running on bad fuel, polluting my space, my sweet heaven, my oz - I can't feel it. My inspiration has deserted me. Abandoned the cause, it's the price we pay for abuse.