I cant write
The writers block
It has arrived
The black mask
the white shroud
Signifying death all around
The words are dead
Vacant and vapid
they scream across the screen
like Banshees that will not be silenced
Devoid of thought
I despair
I cannot write
I have lost my scribe
The writers block
it has arrived
Labels: poetry
1 Comments:
But then, you just did.
The journey, not the destination.
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