this is the result of not being able to write that essay that was due the other day...
Writer's Block
The blank paper sits in front of me
Glaring; taunting my still hand
I am the artist, the page my canvas
But the vision escapes me
My hand won’t move
There is no inspiration to guide it
So many thoughts swimming about my head
But none seem worthy
Of the precious white paper
Still glaring, still taunting
Me to make it something more
To rid it of its blinding whiteness and make it
Whole

The page is a block of marble
Waiting for my chisel to make it a sculpture
Waiting for my pen to make it a story
To give it life
I want to so bad
So many possibilities
So much potential
It will be whatever I want it to be
yet my ideas still do not satisfy me
They are not complete; still not worthy
Of the mighty paper lying before me