Pen in hand, word in mind,
Blank paper still,
The emptiness, silence, unkind,
Against my will.
What, why, still unclear,
There's loads on paper, to smear,
But they stop, half way,
And I choke, to dismay.
And when they finally come,
Random letters, them.
A maze of words cripple me,
Unclear symphonies.
My word, I wish you'd be kind,
Crumpled papers on my floor,
My word, find your way from my heart to pen,
And flow through to the world beyond.
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