Categories > Original > Poetry
Passing The Time
0 ReviewsI have no idea where this came from, but I like it. Feedback; encouraged and appreciated, as per usual.
Here I sit,
With the urge to write,
But no inspiration,
For the words to ignite.
So this is the feel,
Of writer's block,
Just the passing of hands,
On a broken clock.
Too much cliche,
Wanting to spill,
Between the lines,
With an inked quill.
I won't let that,
Stop me now,
'Cause in my head,
I took a vow.
This here's final,
My very last verse,
For I've shoved that block,
In the back of a hearse.
With the urge to write,
But no inspiration,
For the words to ignite.
So this is the feel,
Of writer's block,
Just the passing of hands,
On a broken clock.
Too much cliche,
Wanting to spill,
Between the lines,
With an inked quill.
I won't let that,
Stop me now,
'Cause in my head,
I took a vow.
This here's final,
My very last verse,
For I've shoved that block,
In the back of a hearse.
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