using writers block to an advantage
There’s restraint on the guide to this story.
The hand trembles to bring the pen to the paper.
This pen is usually the outside drifter trudging along the paper.
Today is not his day, for as he goes onward he is blocked.
The darkness strikes where the words usually appear.
How to bring himself out from this slump; he sits and ponders.
Wondering is it a slump, or a state of mind?
Could I stop this even if I tried?
What did I do to deserve?
What did I do to deserve that would take away my words?
The words that empty on to the notepad as a painters empty canvas.
Someone has stolen my words like that of a paintbrush.
No longer can I create a work of art.
No longer can I make the next wonder of the world.
When will I be able to create again?
I sit here thinking, wondering, and hoping that they will return like the lost dog.
The dog that always finds his way back; come back to me.
Come back to me my words so that I may once again be able to talk.
I am stuck in this hard place, I am blocked.
However will I set myself free; who will set me free?
To become unblocked is all I long for at the moment.
I desire to create with my words, unblocked, free as a hawk.