I had the intention to write a lovely poem
But the ink won’t spill
And the words won’t come!
Oh tell me why -
Oh why oh why oh why
This makes me want to scream…?
It shouldn’t be so difficult
Nor so hard
To make some art
Out of paper and inkblot scars.
The page lies blank
With a wrinkled mask
It’d be dead by now
Had I given up
But why must the urge to write
Be so bad?
There’s enough paper in the trash
To make a cardboard town
And yet -
How is it I can’t put it to use?
I just stare and stare and stare
At a canvas so lonely
…and frown.
Oh how can I fix this mess?
How can I make words so pitiful
Beautiful - or at least cute
So they can masquerade with the best?
The ink has spilled
But the words still won’t come
Ah, forget this masterpiece.
I’M DONE!