Staring at this torturous empty page,
A sneer glares back at me,
As I smear the page with unusable garbage,
This maddening echo of thoughts long since used,
And memories far beyond altered.
How I try to find the cure,
Impossible to predict how long I will endure,
Desperately wanting to grab ahold of emotions inside me,
Grasp them firmly in my tightened fist,
Within my iron grip they plea,
Desperate to once again be free,
I want to hurl them at this blank white mural,
An epitaph to deceased creativity,
To leave an imprint, an inkblot to wash away my captivity,
Instead all I’m left with is a stain,
The blinking cursor remains,
Insidiously winking back,
Haunting my once powerful capacity,
Until I forfeit, hit that button, and fade to black.