Literature
Writer's Block
Across the paper moves my pen as the written word is born,
My words are subtle, silent, still, but I am surely torn.
I cannot think of what to write as I begin to pace,
My mind is stuck, my pen is heavy, I've lost the color of my face.
The stress is here, the words won't come, I don't know what to do!
I try to think, but must conclude my brain has gone askew!
The sky is dark, my time is up, the day will soon be ending!
The due date is tomorrow and there is no time for spending.
My thoughts are cloudy, my hands are locked, but I begin to think,
I have an idea, I have a line, I write without a blink.
The rhymes are rolling, the ink is