I can’t write, I can’t find a word to put on this page
I feel like all my words have been put behind a cage
And my arms aren’t long enough to touch the words
And I feel as if I’m being mocked by the exact same words
Every step I take forward they take one back
Every time I get on the right one, they get on the left track
Playing a game of hide and seek I never signed up for
Write or rest, back in the day it was either or
Now Im left with one, I can only rest
I feel like Im being put to the test
The title of writer, poet, author are now said in jest
Words used to flow from my pen like a waterfall caught in the rain
And now Im like a moth to flame, in search of pain
Because I think it might spark some inspiration
Pain has that effect on writers, so Im looking for some instigation
Something that will light my pen and make me write out of fear
Fear that my pen will once again stop, Im now filled with fear
Im used to writing when I want, page after page
Sadness, love, ugliness, pain and rage
Everything went out and stayed there
The world crumbled around me, my bright sky scattered to pieces
Life cheated me out of everything, but this page was always fair
This page was always there, and now its as if I left it alone
As if I wandered into the dark, and left my page at home
That page was like a secret world I could step into at will
My own secret little drug, my sure fire way to kill
Kill boredom, depression and everything life could throw
My foot into the realm of deity, as only a writer would know
An addiction I would never had to kick
But just like an addiction the lack of it could make me sick
And that’s what I am right now, I cant write a single letter
And reading others does not make it any better
My pen is now a complete bum, used to be such a trendsetter
This infliction is a curse so old its ancient, but keep in mind
