Writer's Block
My thoughts are dead
Imagination shot
Blackness born within my head
No sense for a plot
Where are the words
They used to flow
Flutter like birds
Of an ink lathered glow
Sanity stepping so close to the brink
One more inch and tears cascade
My comatose mind cannot think
My pen has decayed
But wait a second an idea just sprouted
My pen's alive and well
Then my cerebellum rerouted
I wad up my paper...I'm back in hell
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