A little poem about writer’s block/emotion block…
Image by George Eastman House via Flickr
My lips turn up in smile
When they really want to scream.
I seek illusions
To keep me in my dream.
My ideas swarm in net,
Awaiting my reply,
But I just stare at blankness
While inked tools run dry.
I hold my numbing words,
Seemed paralyzed by choice,
When I long to free emotions
And give my heart a voice.
I am the epitome of Free Spirit,
With no regret or rage,
And I know this to be true,
From the label upon my Cage…
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