Writer's Block



A look at myself and my reasons to write. The passion that becomes poetry.



I write to see more,

Than holes in my floor,

Roaches, stomach rumbles,

A mud covered core.


To release pieces of me,

Running insane;

It is from madness,

Not from my brain.


Pure passionate pleas,

What can I be?

A babbling manic?

Or a bottomless sea?


Waking days silent,

Insomniac violence,

Burnt by my life,

I hide inside it.


Making waves to see,

Are they hearing me?

I try to be better,

But, come out misery.


I am oxymoronic,

Humanities vomit,

Piecing my words,

Into a new age comet.


If I never make a name,

Never make a change;

At least my writer's block,

Keeps me inflamed.


The misunderstood man,

This wasnt my plan.

Though its not much,

I do what I can...






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