Its in my head and won't come out
The words should flow like streams
But the streams have seemed to all dry up
My mind stores empty dreams

My pen in hand and at the ready
Tapping harshly on the table
Frustration knocks loudly still
It would move if it were able

Blank paper screaming louder still
For written words or verse
Incomplete work eluding my soul
Is like death but maybe worse

My mind cries out for a single word
To end my tortured thoughts
Inspiration please knock upon my door
Before insanitys next onslaught