I spend days and nights
Trying to find the words to write
The words to describe my pain
The words to explain why I'm insane
But little words can explain
What's going on in my brain

Dictionaries, thesauruses, every literary tool
Extensive knowledge of every grammatical rule
Yet I'm still staring at a blank page
Unable to explain my fueling rage

Every month, I close my eyes and pray for clarity,
I pray for my mind to do that bit of charity,
but it seems as when the clock ticks down,
Clarity cannot be found.

Every week, I stop listening and pray for help,
My worn out mind barely letting out a yelp,
but it seems as when the clock ticks down,
My cries immediately drown.

Every day, I close my mouth and pray for words,
Every line in my head is blurred,
but it seems as when the clock ticks down,
My shut mouth is still a frown.

Every hour, I choke back my thoughts and pray for quiet,
Every little idea starting a brand new riot,
but it seems as when the clock ticks down,
Nothing is stirring this town.

Every minute, I hold on a little tighter and pray for something new,
I grasp the rope until my fingertips turn blue,
but it seems as when the clock ticks down,
I will never get my hands on that ever-so-prized crown.

Every second, I write a word and pray that I will be heard,
Even if it’s just one little word,
but in the end, when the clock ticks down,
Nothing makes a sound.