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Writer's Block

This paper is my enemy
That leaks my inner soul,
It asks me for my feelings
And then my heart is sold.
I want to keep on writing
But fear struck through my mind,
As I discovered one thing:
That my ideas are blind.

This pencil is my anger
That's thriving deep inside,
It helps write down my feelings
Of which I cannot hide.
I want to keep on drawing
But my pictures are trash,
which let my memories sing
about the day my heart went CLASH.

I sold my soul to paper
The pencil tells me all,
I'm chained inside my cell
And all I can do is bawl.
Paper controls my every move
I cannot even talk,
Because as I'm confined to this room
I have writer's block.




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Violets said...
Jul. 2, 2010 at 6:08 pm:
WOW. This is exactly how i feel when i get writer's block. i hate it, and i hate how it makes me want to write, but makes it so hard. i am in awe at this poem, it is definately one of my favorites out of this website. each feeling that you described is perfectly accurate. you captured writer's block perfectly. Wow.
 
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