There is a lightbulb
In my brain
That is cracked
Not working
And is barely not shattering.

There is an idea factory
In my brain
That is shut down
Rusted
And barely standing up.

I am out of ideas
My brain is not working
My mind has become catatonic.

My ideas have called sick
My good words have taken a day off
And my rhyme quit its job.

My rythym is on vacation
My inspiration failed the interview,
And my structure decided to collapse.

I don’t know what to write
So I write nothing
Unless nothing turns into something
And my sick tree bears fruit.