Funk

This is the funk I wish I had.

I've been doing new things, but I haven't been writing about them.
Life is good, but when you don't know what you're supposed to do with it or when you're not doing what you want too...well, sometimes... funk.
I'm in a funk.
I want to be a writer...yesterday.
It's hard work. 
In my quest for writerdom I deleted things today. 
Yes, I know editing is an integral part of writing, but sometimes it feels backwards instead of moving forwards.
I know, I know...everything I read, do and write is important...just keep writing, but for goodness sakes keepers of the keys show me the light or at least tell me what I need to delete exactly (ok, maybe not...what  if you tell me delete it all?)
Off I go...slowly, but surely (which is better than surly) to delete 

I don't  know your story
Though I will make one up as you walk by
Perhaps you are a queen or an assassin
The glitter on your glasses is a disguise
to hide the bruises from your fight with a ninja
Or if I am melancholy - a bitter pain
Perhaps the way you lumber by reminds me of a sage or a saint
Or if I am melancholy -  down-trodden, unemployed, and unhappy
You could easily be all of these things or none at all.
Perhaps you will stop for moment.
Please tell me a story so fantastical I marvel
or a truth so sad I am moved to my knees and weep
I want to know your story, perhaps it is the same as mine.

Just another random poem musing. Let's call it "Characters"

You in a funk?
How do you get out?