When I suffer from “The Block” I write about it
PUDDLE OF WORDS
Words are closing in around me.
From within my clotted mind I cannot set them free.
I am drowning in a puddle of my own words.
This is absurd it cannot be real?
A writer condemned by words?
These words, how they do accumulate.
Death by beheading upon the writers block
could this become my fate?
To pull these words from my head.
If only I could write them down.
Then maybe, just maybe
in this puddle of my own words
I could swim instead of drown.