Scared he was,
Empty pages, intimidation,
The floodgate welded shut,
Characters missing,
Kidnapped by word Count Dracula,
Who then sucks the ink from their body paragraphs,
The floodgate springs a leak,
Underneath a tree,
Lemons drop around him,
He thinks, “when life gives you lemons, squirt them in the eyes of your foes,”
Leaves begin to fall, 
A slow descent,
“Is a leaf’s only purpose to fall?”
The floodgate seemingly ready to burst,
He writes,
For hours,
Days,
Lifetimes,
Why, they ask,
“To fill a void,
To fill the page,
Because empty lines,
Are negative space,
Reminders that,
I never reached that place,
A lion I am not,
I lack my fierce coating,
The page filled,
Yet scared I still am,
For the floodgate remains unopened.”