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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