I've finally reached a stage,
Where I am furious with rage.
A silver pen rests in my hand,
but there's nothing on the page.

The room is cool and dank,
and there's a devil on my flank.
Words rage war within me,
but the paper is staying blank.

I'm a soldier, see my fight
in the madness of this night.
I should be be scrawling paragraphs,
instead the pad is plain and white.

My shell is burnt and cracked,
from the eternal sting of the attack,
on my desk there's only barrenness,
where there should be a sea of black.