Frustration

Every day, I start to write something, put fingers to the keyboard and open my mind in search of words to communicate something, anything. And every day, after line 3 or 4, I delete the words and give up. This space was to allow me the room to ramble randomly, laying the building blocks for what will eventually become complete writings. When it began, it was all good. Words flowed. Now I find myself in a bit of a conundrum. Has it served its purpose? Over the next 6 months, the raw and uncut poems that are on here are going to disappear one by one. Each one that disappears is to be edited in preparation for my next collection. Again I ask myself, does this mean this space has served its purpose? Has it runs its life and deserves to be allowed to die quietly without fanfare? Is what's one here worth taking to the page? Why are there always just questions?