Writer&#39s Block

Why is it
That at the very moment
The perfect words
Are created in my mind
And invincibility flows through me,
The cynical little child in my mind
Grabs the reins,
Showing me the truth of it all.

"Somebody's already said that."
Snickering at me,
Taunting.
"It's merely a dormant memory
And they aren't really yours."

At the very moment
The perfect words
Are created in my mind
I crumple them up,
Throwing them away
Into a pile
Among the countless others.





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