Writer's Block

Sometimes when pages go blank,

And ink overflows,

I wonder why my hands,

Fail to pen down my thoughts.

A sudden uneasiness,

Creeps upon my soul,

My mind draws a blank,

While my emotions clog.

I wriggle in anticipation,

Waiting for my mind to explode,

As it feels like I've been refused,

The right to breathe or talk.

I sense the minutes passing by,

Every second, weighing down my soul,

My pen waits in turmoil,

Like a sword longing to be unsheathed and let go.

Such days make me wonder,

Am I really cut out for this road,

Will my pen no more create worlds,

That spring out from the depths of my soul.

Yet, as the saying goes,

Nothing is permanent but death alone,

And so I thrive on the strength and belief,

That nothing could stop me,from letting my emotions take form.

Till my heart stops beating,

And paralysis creeps on,

I'll always find joy and tranquility,

In my words that express, the truth my essence holds.