The Writer's Block

"The Writer's Block"
2010

My inspiration's gone
The words won't hit the page
Like the lights were on
And the star won't hit the stage
But rationale it must coerce
Each pretty line and darling verse
To finally leave their hiding place
'Cause we don't have the time to waste
As I lay beneath this writer's block
Hearing sounds from quiet clocks
While the walls are closing in
And I can't reach my chosen pen
To bleed my tired soul of ink
Despite the things that people think
And after all is said and dried
At least they can say I tried
Now imagination's running wild
And leaving us with strands
Like some hyperactive child
That nobody understands
Since focus makes the image blur
I can't find my way around
And as these little things occur
Crumbled paper hits the ground
As I lay beneath this writer's block
Hearing sounds from quiet clocks
While the walls are closing in
And I can't reach my chosen pen
To bleed my tired soul of ink
Despite the things that people think
And after all is said and dried
At least they can say I tried
Now the public wants to read or hear
But I'm still paralyzed with fear
Because this page is bright and blank
And it's this block I have to thank
For choking thoughts before they come
Leavings minds surprised and numb
But I can feel this block begin to lift
And fingertips have grazed my gift
As I lay beneath this writer's block
Hearing sounds from quiet clocks
While the walls are closing in
And I can't reach my chosen pen
To bleed my tired soul of ink
Despite the things that people think
And after all is said and dried
At least they can say I tried...