Writer’s Block


I endure my past like waves crashing against rocks,
Longing for a change that cannot be obtained,
Time has disappeared and the numbers on the clock blurred,
A dagger to the heart, a lock on emotions,
Emotions that cannot erupt and has no breaking point,
Death makes me numb and life makes me cold,
My thoughts embark on a chilling journey each day,
Lost and without cause, no purpose to my name,
I wonder if love exists or even my own name,
Why am I here and why does the raven fly,
Why does the sun set and why do the stars hang,
Was there such a painter or did it evolve to be imperfection,
I hold to no cause and move no more, its all perfection,
Like a raven without wings and a runner without legs,
There is nothing for me here, only darkness satisfies me,
Pen and paper, my mind to the grind,
Who would know this could be an author's mind.

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