The moment I sit down to write My mind becomes outright white
Thinking and searching for topics to write.
I write and rewrite, write and rewrite, but I still cannot decide.
Questioning myself, doubting my thoughts, fighting a lot, but still staring at a blank wall, at least I tried.


Sometimes I feel like I can write a book with thousand pages,
But some days I feel like my stories and thoughts are on vacation.
At this point it in time I am writing for the sake of writing,
Trying to fill more space and making sure that everything is rhyming.


Well it looks like I somehow managed to write something out of not being able to write, how ironic.
I guess this poem will be short as I never had anything to say from the beginning.
Well at least this was kind of iconic.
I guess now I should stop with my gibberish and give you all my thanksgiving! (For baring with this)