This poem explores the feeling of writer’s block that all writer’s have face at one time or another.
words slip cryptic behind the shadows
obscured by my ego
as an ironic message to myself
my mind a bucket of primordial plot line ooze
I can not decode the DNA of
tantalizes as characters I can not decipher
and I try to place fingers to keys
rub ink into paper
described through my eyes
but I falter
my muse collapsed
the mask of my childhood dreams
steps back from the spotlight
bewildered I realize my limitations
we’re all the same
mastery has highs and lows
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