The Plight

Why even bother writing anymore? My words, not filled with dragons, sorcerers, or unicorns, slide off the page and hit the cement floor of which my inspiration comes. Lifeless are the letters in rigor mortis as the U's curves slowly straighten to the solitary I. The world is changing courses from meaningful writing to playful banter to a mixture, like flour and water, which is drenched down the esophagi of every human being. And perhaps the fantasy world I delve into daily is not nearly as interesting as the one another writer makes, but sorry if I cannot interest with in a subtle masterpiece.