Writers Block
I'm sitting here, trying to write what I talk,
But I have a mild case of writer's block,
Cause I can't think of much to write,
All my beautiful words are out of sight.
No ideas dance through my head,
No metaphors can be uttered or said,
My brain is empty; my mouth is dry,
I'm at a loss for words I cannot lie.
Where have all my ideas gone?
I use to be able to make each word my pon,
But as I sit, no words reach the air,
My imagination as gone completely bare.
Should I be worried, about my sudden decease?
I can't write a single word with ease!
What has happened? What is wrong?
I hope this phase doesn't last very long.
The paper now is my enemy; the pen now is my foe
But these are things I have to come to love and know.
I'm sure I'll be fine, once I get inspiration,
I'll be quick to write without any hesitation.
Till then, when the words decide to draw near,
No words can be said, there's nothing to hear,
When they do choose to lend themselves to writing,
All will be normal, and no more of this rhyming.
Copy Right 2001