WRITER'S BLOCK
The blank page stares back at me,
A vast expanse of nothingness.
My mind, once full of ideas,
Now dull and empty, a mere mess.
I've searched for inspiration,
In words and images abound.
But nothing seems to stick,
No spark to be found.
My pen lays still, untouched,
My words, silenced and still.
The weight of this writer's block,
Is more than I can feel.
Yet, I must fight this endless battle,
Against the emptiness within.
For I am a writer, born to create,
And this block will not be my end.
So, I pick up my pen once more,
And face the empty page again.
For I know with time and patience,
My words will flow anew, my friend.
YOU ARE READING
COLLECTION OF POEMS BY CONTESSA
PoetryThis is for yourlazycontessa's compilation of poems. DISCLAIMER I, as an aspiring writer, want to make it clear that this poems is a work of fiction and should be read and appreciated as such. The characters, places, events, and conversations depic...
