deepundergroundpoetry.com
Writer's Block
I've rested beneath the soil,
hidden from the pen.
A cold blanket of writer’s block immures me.
A new day dawns; its rays paint my shallow grave with light.
My waking head tilts;
hands parting the walls of this prison.
hidden from the pen.
A cold blanket of writer’s block immures me.
A new day dawns; its rays paint my shallow grave with light.
My waking head tilts;
hands parting the walls of this prison.
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