Words flying through my mind all at the same time
Which ones make sense and which ones rhyme
Writer's block has taken over my subconscious
All I know is this is a bunch of nonsense
I sit staring at the screen trying to think
Trying to create the flow of my ink
Frustrated, complicated it shouldn't be
Why can't I type out the visions that I see
I feel sudated, medicated with writer's flu
Mad at myself for not knowing what to do
It will pass in time this is the truth
It's like magic because suddenly the light turns on and poof
Then the words flow naturally once again
With every single genius stroke of the pen
Writer's flu; that's funny to me but probably not to you
But it's ok because I'm easy to amuse
Well I guess I'm back to sitting here feeling like I'm doomed
One thing's for sure my mind it will not consume
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