As I lay on my bed
My favorite pen in my hand
Trying to convince myself
To write something creative
But my brain can't function
And just think on command
I blink, and blink, and blink
Staring at the paper blankly
Feeling like I've been hoodwinked
By a silhouette in a hood
All you see is two blaring eyes
As one half of them winks
Mind racing in slow motion
Thinking you can think something
But the ink isn't working
Brainwaves are failing to flow
To the tips of your fingers
Sparking the touch of talent
Trying to tap the wires
That trigger inner feelings
And fuel the fire to write
Stick a knife in a socket
You still wouldn't get the shock
To ignite your light to write
All you want to do is write
Begging and pleading your pen
To scribble with all it's might
You want to feel productive
And conceive a worthy product
Yet you can't seem to produce
It's the worst feeling ever
Because you just want to write.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
As I lay on my bed
My favorite pen in my hand
Trying to convince myself
To write something creative
But my brain can't function
And just think on command
I blink, and blink, and blink
Staring at the paper blankly
Feeling like I've been hoodwinked
By a silhouette in a hood
All you see is two blaring eyes
As one half of them winks
Mind racing in slow motion
Thinking you can think something
But the ink isn't working
Brainwaves are failing to flow
To the tips of your fingers
Sparking the touch of talent
Trying to tap the wires
That trigger inner feelings
And fuel the fire to write
Stick a knife in a socket
You still wouldn't get the shock
To ignite your light to write
All you want to do is write
Begging and pleading your pen
To scribble with all it's might
You want to feel productive
And conceive a worthy product
Yet you can't seem to produce
It's the worst feeling ever
Because you just want to write.
I know you fellow writers all feel like this every once in a while. Or a lot. Just thought I'd put it in to a poem.
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