Stains and Stories

Poetical Block

When adrenaline runs dry,

And coffee no longer boosts surges of words,

The state of a suffering artist comes to life ,

They call it a 'Full Stop',

Unaware poet calls it 'poetical block'

Nocturnal ,

Yet too tired to think ,

Scribbled words ,

Yet too empty to be felt ,

Hours pass by ,

Frustrated, aggravated , distressed

Nothing describes it at all,

She waits patiently,

For her train of thoughts to arrive,

All she is met with is darkness and infinite wait ,

They call it a 'Full stop'

Unaware poet calls it a 'poetical block'

Her puzzle is almost complete,

Yet it misses the final link ,

She reads it all ,

Every part of it,

It refuses to meet her approval ,

She stares at the words,

They stare back longingly,

Mocking her ,

Laughing at her absolute lack of sense,

They call it a 'Full Stop;

Unaware poet calls it a 'poetical block'

She puts it off,

Tomorrow would be another day,

It wasn't.

All of it changed a day ,

A day where she wrote,

Her life bleeds into words ,

And that day,

Her vigor had no match .

They call it a 'Full Stop'

Unaware poet calls it a 'poetical block'

And slowly , one overcomes it.

A/N: I am back.Did you miss me? I missed you - ok maybe ,possibly .

And I just penned down - yeah, typed down- the hated state , Poetical Block.

Hope you liked it!

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