The pen writes pretentious literature,
Unoriginal ideas, they say;
Gloom fills the page – sentences are sombre;
Pages are robustly torn – thrown away;

At a loss for words – the mind is empty,
Inspiration struggles to call my name;
Day by day, treasured skills become rusty,  
Writer’s Block is the cause of my defame;

O! Where are you, the words of my passion?
I await your return so eagerly;
I bear the wait of your intercession,
My thin patience is ready to run free!

Depart from me, Writer’s Block, rapidly!
How will I break you before you break me?