Writing

I pick up my pencil
And stare at the paper,
Thinking of ideas
But all I get is failure.

No ideas,
Nothing in my head,
And if I don’t finish quick
I’ll be as good as dead.

I think as hard as I can,
But nothing comes to me.
Not a single rhyme.
I’m as dried up as can be.

I try and try and try
But I’ve got nothing
No inspiration
I wish I was bluffing.

Wait!
A thought!
But I don’t have much time left,
So it’s time to put in all I got.

I put my pencil on the paper
And start to move my hand.
I feel creativity flowing.
Nothing I write is bland.

I finish up close to midnight
And I go to my bed.
I try to go to sleep, but I can’t
Because it’s like my mind is filled with creativity and lead.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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