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My writers block
Feels less like a conquerable block
And more
Like an impossible maze
I never understood what
‘writers block’ was, until now:

The complete derailing
of your train of thought
Rowan S Jan 2019
I have now backspaced
Probably, too many times
All for a haiku
Yeah. The creative juices aren't really flowing today.
i look so good
on paper
every fiber
every inkling
tells a story
my story.

i look again
hoping i'm okay
on paper
as i write
and write
my stories
whose stories
again?

i look again
at the paper
and sigh.
nothing.
writers block @ college apps hah
Bobcat Jan 2019
Sometimes I over drink.
Oops I mean overthink.
Ah **** it, it's the same **** thing.

I over pour my glass leaving no room for coke.
The voice repeating in my head of the last words you spoke.
You ask why I'm self destructive but the truth is I dont know.

I'm starting to think that the devil is a lie.
The only evil we see is what we bury inside.
I'm going to lose to myself, it's only a matter of time.

I'm starting to get lazy and just copy and paste,
All the words that went nowhere so they don't go to waste.
Maybe i'm just over this **** and need a change of pace.

I have a lot to say but a lot remains unspoken.
My creativity is asleep and dares not be woken.
I write what I feel but my pencil needs sharpened.

This used to keep my demons from making a revival.
Now when I write it's like I dont even try at all.
I dont know how to escape this so I live in denial.

What's left to say that I haven't already said?
The devil lives inside of me it's inside my head.
I'm thinking it's time to introduce my brain to some ******* lead.
Iz Jan 2019
My words run short
Like melted wax
Creeping down the sides of
Candles who have lived a smoldering life
Mike Groves Jan 2019
It’s on the tip of my tongue,
I know it I swear, the words aren’t missing,
they’re just not there, on the tip of my tongue,
I believe I know where,
I'll find them in the dark skies or in my blank stare.
Please send up a light or some kind of flare,
end this cycle of searching,
searching for what is rare.

Words that I’ll be searching for for a while,
Surprised that I’m locked in, like juvenile,

I’ll be Stuck in a constant rewind,
until we've left this topic behind.
Then I'll remember and say remember that time,

Eventually, Ill be able to speak effortlessly again
of course it'll happen after this conversation ends.
Just heard the phrase tip of my tongue and was inspired to try to write about it. Can’t really count the number of times I’ve been lost for words or can’t think of the words to say.
Marietta Ginete Jan 2019
What is this feeling?
The feeling of being empty,
The feeling of lacking emotion,
The feeling of not being able to write.

It's weird not being able to express myself.
The emotions I once felt have left by itself.
The words in my head are stuck there
but at the same time they're nowhere.

I want to write about how I feel for you.
but what is there to write when I feel nothing anymore?
There's nothing else for me to do.
What else is there to write for?
I'm itching to write, I've really missed it.
Mohannie Jan 2019
I’m blocked

Can’t think of anything to write
Searching for inspiration with a fight

I’m locked

Scanning my head for lines
Scouring my heart that confines

I’m shocked

Nothing to say
No words to pay

I’m clocked

Nothing on the sheet
The clock I can’t beat

I’m blocked?

Turns out I just wrote a poem
While suffering from writer’s block
Huh. I wanted to write something but I’m in writer’s block. Here’s the outcome!
Dike Aduluso Jan 2019
It came from cloudless blue
No herald of its fall
Was served as heaven’s brew
To quench the thirst of all
To give to morn its dew
And cause to tiller’s prance
To wet dry ground anew
With peace, joy, song, and dance

A peace of spotless white
Urged warring halves to join
As weary eyes did sight
The gleam of nature’s coin

A joy of love’s consent
Burned bright from empty core
As ailing nose did scent
The rise of petrichor

A song to woe's distaste
From voice of grateful praise
As thirsting tongue did taste
The ale of favour's daze

A dance of festive tier
On soles of arid sores
As shutting ears did hear
The tune of Angels' scores

A comfort so surreal
Set last of five to race
As numbing nerves did feel
The warmth of wet embrace

It came from cloudless blue
As touch of God’s good hand
To bid fierce drought adieu
With child for barren land
Who looks not to years past
But thanks the Lord laid bare
Having found at long last
The one for whom to care
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