All I can hear is the tick-tock from the clock on the wall,
Is there something wrong with my brain right now?
Where is the eureka moment? Why aren't my nerves functioning?
Or does my creativity have an expiration date,and it's today?
===
There's nothing more frustrating,
agonizing,
gut-wrenching upsetting,
devastating than this.
===
I look up at the ceiling,
it's white and dull,
just like my blank and empty skull.
YOU ARE READING
Writer's Whispers
PoesiaIt's only at night that you hear the faint whispers of the writer's pen trailing paper. [COMPLETED]
