A blank Word page
Matches a blank mind
Not sure if it's boredom
Or my sheer exhaustion
Deleting anything I start
Words are my enemies
They are now rebelling
Muddling coherent plots
Refusing to form paragraphs
Even a sentence is a struggle
Poetry is the only thing working
Hoping I can get them to behave
So I can get closer to my goal
Then again, words aren't the enemy
The lack of focus is my nemesis
As I stare at a blank page
With a totally blank mind
It's not exhaustion or boredom
Just unable to express my soul
Using words like I did before
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