Writer's Block

In this short description I write about how painfully frustrating it can be to be unable to finish a story, lyrics, and so on. How it can get inside you and tear you apart, and irritate you until the words can finally escape.


2. A Short Story Continued.


I hastily clutch the first thing I can find but it's no use. What's the point in fighting it any more when I've already lost the battle? Is there a point when all I'm surrounded by is the emptiness of this bleak room which only reflects my fear? No. There's nothing I can do, no one I can turn to, no one to hear me scream and save me. Nothing could ever stop this horror. I even turn to God, whispering prayers through my mind, praying He'll hear me, answer me.


There's no God to hear me. No angel to fly down and lift me from the pain, to cradle me like a child within her sweet, silky wings, to sing me a lullaby sending me into a deep slumber from the gentle touch of her heavenly voice.

Suddenly I'm spinning, twirling, falling, falling so far,


I drop, my body collapses to the floor, beaten, defeat. My pen follows with a clatter, only to be followed by suffocating silence and despair.

There's nothing. I see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. Only emptiness and silence.

I am nothing.

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