I cannot purge words,
the taste of oil pastels fills my mouth
but my fingers stumble over color.
I cannot grasp my mind on paper,
with pen or with crayon.
Slick thought smears its black ink,
a jumble of words stains between the lines
and it makes no sense.
What do you think?
Comments
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I'm right there with you, lol. Writers block strikes again. Kind of ironic though, writer's block producing a poem. Nice work.
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I know. I'm just disappointed in everything I do anymore.
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