I fight with my paper and pen, nothing.
Crinkling words into balls again, nothing.

I google storylines and plots, hoping.
I pace the floor to my dark den, nothing.

Thinking back to my old nightmares, creeping.
Seeing the ghosts from my playpen, nothing.

I try to capture the life around me.
The tweet,tweet of a canyon wren, nothing.

I notice the squeak in my swivel chair.
Also a splotch from my pen, still nothing.

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