Of nights spent awake, blank pages, empty thoughts. Of dreams misconstrued, eyes wide open, staring at the wall. Fear holds me prisoner, silence grips me tighter. Words were my ally, now they have failed me too.
Sundays spent in the dark, probing memories, Pleading to be left untouched. Of hurt and regret, my constant companions, Once upon a time, helped me write songs for my broken heart.
Of the moon and the stars, The serene night sky, Back when I could serenade them endless, Now I greet them with empty hands.
Of days when words spilled at the brim of my chalice, Now parched and dry, soulless and wary. Aye, my misgivings keep me company, As I ironically write an ode to my writer's block.