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Water is flowing.

Memories fade,
Like words from a page,
They slither, they sulk, they disappear.

Ideas are crushed,
They wriggle they thrust,
They give a last jerk, they disappear.

My thoughts are encased,
In an icy cage,
They whimper they hide, they disappear.

My flow of creation,
New thoughts, songs, and words,
Are stopped, blocked, disappeared.



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Cindy152 said...
Apr. 1 at 7:59 am
This is really good! I choose to interpret it as a writer's block. It is less grim than the other possibilities! lol 
 
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