I sit on my laptop trying to create epic works,

I think of a story, but it still needs some twerks.

The words do not flow like ink from a pen,

Instead i type zero again and again.

Only the sounds of the night keep me here

since sleep seems inviting and near

The story needs finished, it needs to be done

only two more chapters, hell maybe one.

But the words do not continue like they did at the start

I’ve used the last beat from my writers heart.

These lines of words seem to be near impossible

finishing this story may not be very plausible

The intensity of my hate for this feeling

seems to make my skin start peeling

I look for an ending that is cool, that’s complete

But to think of now is an unhuman feat…….

I think ill make some tea

This is an issue that I faced a lot when I first started writing, and now i face it even more, as most of my ideas have already been written down. One of the best things i find that helps is cold green tea…