I pick up my pencil and get ready to write.
I sit there for a while, my eraser I bite.
I stare out the window but there's no inspiration in sight.
I see only the sun, looking at me with its rays so bright.
I bang my head on the table.
My mind not at all stable.
It feels like someone caged my brain and added a lock.
I throw my pencil in anger and curse my writer's block.
