Unfinished

Is there anything tougher than finishing a creative piece you started in the heat of the moment? I am guilty of hoarding unfinished works that remain incomplete. I find it so hard to regain the momentum that saw me first put pen to paper (metaphorically, usually: if I'm writing by hand it's particularly impulsive).

Here's a piece I started recently. It's no personal reflection; I believe it may have been inspired by a TV series I've been caught up in lately. Is there any significance to where I left it? What sort of ending does work like this deserve? I am no poet, so I always find it more interesting to reflect on what and how I've written, rather than if it's actually any good. I find looking back over my work to be an interesting self-study.

Castles in the sky Floating Above the crowds; The peasants who know not how they came to be Only how they sparkle

But do you see? The windows are shattered glass The door squeaks on rusted hinges A draught blows through hollow halls. This castle Is empty of life

Looking up Masked by cloud Sunlight gleams off spires Reflecting dreams, desires; happiness Yet the clouds are darker The closer you are

The princess weeps The queen stagnates under quilt The king remains in place Before the glass that reflects Everything he’s not

Happy, huh?

Perhaps it's best left unfinished.