A Poet's Dilemma

I try to write of love and and light
But all that comes out is venom and spite
I don’t know what this poem will bring
Does my writing come from blossom or sting?
I stare at the blank page
With my creativity at stake
The pressure of capturing the essence of life
To paint it in words that cut like a fine knife
But every time I try
My page remains void and dry
An endless, stretching canvas
That seems impossible to fill
Yet, I long to write
About memories of love, loss and plight.
My ideas flow but cannot focus
Bringing forth thoughts too vague and bogus
The poet’s dilemma plagues me once again
For it brings so much doubt and pain
To write is to skin the soul
It is such an unfortunate sight to behold.
As the feeling of overwhelm grows
I take a deep breath and let the pen go.