The scents of sweat and frustration truckle down my cheeks as I hold my pen staring at this pad.

Thinking intimately about what I should write next

Should I write about what makes me glad,

Sad,

Mad?

How can I dive into this bag and channel my feelings of how I’m rad into this blank pad

Or should I write about my pain

I swear If I don’t write something I’ll go insane and this time I spent attempting to scribe my feelings will go in vain I’m trying to gain some idea of how I should describe my disdain for blank brainstorming because it leaves me like this

Deranged, angered, anxious and staring out my window into the rain

I feel helpless and weak

Like a vampire tied in chains and filled with vervane

Powerless to free myself from the captivity of my own mind

The sour scent of confusion and anxiety permeate from my glands

As I shake my hands attempting to put what’s in my psyche onto this note pad

So many feelings so many words

This feeling I cannot stand

Oh how I’m drenched in my own sweat and it seems like every breath brings makes me feel less and less as a poet

Because I’ve failed to express my emotions on to a simple piece of paper

Well I’ll get up for now play a video game maybe something will come up later

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