Each day when I think about what to create,
to write and hopefully make something great,
sometimes thoughts won’t come to the brain,
and I realize my nemesis has struck again.
A familiar fiend which restrains me so,
impeding ideas, obstructing their flow.
In my mind it continues to linger and stalk,
this wretched and loathsome writer’s block.
Bearing a curse of cruel deprivation
that saps me of all that fuels innovation.
Try as I might, I struggle to flee
this insidious foe which lurks within me.
I’ll seek out inspiration, brainstorm and ponder.
I’ll search the wide web and let my mind wander,
but with each passing hour, every tick of the clock,
there remains this despicable writer’s block.
I’ll take breaks that drag on for days at a time
and grapple with choices of what words to rhyme.
What genre should I pick? What story should I tell?
It drowns me in stagnation, this torturous hell.
Eventually I return to a regular pace,
and I write with no constant drive to erase,
but as I finish this poem, in this very Word Doc,
I know in time it will be back, this wicked writer’s block.