Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Writers Block

Sometimes I spill my blood onto the paper
In an attempt to empty my mind.
Today, my eyes are clouded over
And my throat is ugly and raw
From my pen dragging my opinion painfully from my mouth.
Forming words are an impossible feat,
Let alone beautiful ones.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback