I stare at the blank piece of paper, wondering what my next writing will be
I can’t think of anything
My mind blank just as the paper
This could be what they call writers block
Or maybe I’m not meant to write
I don’t know nor do I care
But whatever it is, I want it to go away.
I’m sick of having the urge to write and not being able to get the words out
It’s like a ditch
Your all the way at the bottom, trying to climb up and escape
Digging your finger between the rocks
Trying to pull yourself up
But the harder you try the deeper the ditch gets
Your screams seem to become quite
No one can help you leave this ditch, your on your own
The rocks become bloody
Before you know it your body is battered in bruises and there are cuts around your body
These cuts are bleeding, there seems to be no end to the blood
Doesn’t matter how much you try to cover it, try to stop it, it will never stop bleeding
You decide to stop trying to escape
This ditch is where your meant to be
Giving up is the only thing your body can do.
