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Words jumble in my head.

Frantically, I attempt to sort my thoughts.

They swirl endlessly, but never reach a clear concise ending.


I slam my pencil down onto the table.

Scribbles and ink litter my white paper.

Annoyance sweeps over me as I am unable to get past the first sentence.


My legs launch my chair backwards.

I stand up quickly, and pace around the room.

My cranium pulsates from being filled to the brim.


My brain screams his thoughts inside my head.

His concerns add more pressure to my skull.

He waves his hands frantically around at the demons.

I have let too many out, and he does not know how to rane them in.


He scowls at me as he flicks the switch to my creative box.

A grey shadow is casted over the previous well lit room.

My brain slams the room door shut, and places a large lock on the door.

Its glistening metal taunts me as it hangs from the latch.


I plead with him to unlock the door, and to turn the light back on.

He firmly shakes his head at me, and gives me a disappointed glare.

I fall into my chair with despair.

Turning away, he leaves me to wonder when this mental block will come to an end.
Maelynn Jul 8
Blessing or curse?
Spoken or verse?
Two pieces of a broken mind,
Searching for the power to find
What she knows is inside her,
The capability-
But in the end it comes
Down to ability,
And she hasn't found it yet-
Her brain is full of detailed worlds,
But how to draw them out?
Some may call it writer's block
But she has writer's drought.
an0nym0us Jun 2
I flew above the horizon
Soar high with the eagles
Flew up high to cross the great sea
With my magnificent wings

I joined the clouds on the skies
I flapped and flapped tirelessly
To reach the paradise
On which I can almost see.

The eagles gracefully flew over the mighty mountain
They reached the other side
They have entered their destination
A beautiful paradise.

It is my turn to ascend like them
I charged, pushed myself higher
But I lost my grace, I hit a tree
I fell down to the dirt

I tried to rise from the ground but I can't
Tried all my might but my wings are broken
I can no longer fly
I can no longer land on paradise.
Amanda Apr 19
As I stare at blank sheets
To jot down my thoughts
Realize how alone I feel
Only friends are vacant lots

These restraints tighten around my words
Keeping in place
Long to leave their chamber
They're running out of space

I really want company
Singing solo to an empty room
The cage known as my conciousness
Lyrics of honest emotion attempt to bloom

Remembering yet unable to manifest
Moments sliding around mind
My suffering festers in seething sores
Until despair is finally defined
About having writers block when you really need to express something a certain way and you cant find the right words
Let's focus on the practical things
This week ..
Something positive
Helping the community.
Let's share the love.
How to get through
This week
First forget about listening to
The negative News.!!!
Mrs Anybody Feb 20
i am not
going to
lie

i tried
to find
your socials

but it's like
you don't
even exist
it's frustrating, isn't it?

also check out my other poems!  :)
Jasmine dryer Sep 2019
Sit on the ground
watch the parade march around
go through the whole town
no one notices
that jugglers are choking
and the little kids are smoking
the balloons are deflating
everything escalating
and its so frustrating
but the pills are sedating
Lost Feb 2019
i type distantly
like the hands
that hold my phone
are alien appendages
attached to a body
from a different space
and a different time

but it is 1:13am now
and i am rooted here
in the physical world
my atoms buzzing and humming
dancing through the atmosphere
confined to this vessel
of meat and bones
that i have no choice
but to animate

i am here
condemning this physical form
to the four corners of my room
i switch between
writing to an operator
for a crisis text line
and spilling my insides
onto the lines i write here

this is how i spend my nights

it is 1:39am now
i canceled the text service
because i am tired
and i don’t find solace
in condescending
impersonal advice

believe it or not
i am a self-aware human being
and after six years
of making myself bleed
it actually has occurred to me
that i could find a hobby
or snap a rubber band
on my shaking wrists
and i have tried whatever unfulfilling
underwhelming trick
you have to offer

your intentions are always good
dear operators
but *******
your ignorance
is astoundingly
counterproductive

it is 1:56am
and i feel just as alone as before
but just a little more frustrated
and closer to sleep
than when I started
I found this while looking through my notes. It was written in May.
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