So I run down this block,
Writers block.
And I see many things.
Nothing constructive.
I can't hear what it sings.
So I walk down this block,
Writers block.
There is a man carrying a sack,
I wonder what he has?
Possibly a snack?
So I trudge down this block,
Writers block.
With the thought of food in my brain.
I am so hungry,
In my stomach, a small pain.
So I linger down this block.
Writers block.
Food for thought.
My bellies full.
But still, I fought.
So I crawl down this block,
Writers block.
Trying to move past this.
Slowly but surely.
I feel almost amiss.
So I lay on this block,
Writers block.
Finally to the end.
I am exhausted.
Good bye my dear friend.