Alone in her room

(About the frustration of trying to write something.)

Alone in her room, radio blaring, she sits and writes.
Lost for ideas- no words in her head. She scribbles, erases and jots pointless things.
No reason for her actions…nobody around to cease them.
Stuck for ideas she searches her surrounding for inspiration, or a distraction…to no prevail.
Her pen turns into a fidgeting solution- no longer a tool.
Her emotions bottle up inside her, building and building until they finally erupt onto the page before her.
Her once blank pages fill with her annoyance and frustration.
Her pains and sorrows flood the page. Within minutes her poem is complete. She leaves the room emptied of emotion and lifted of her burdens.
The notebook lies open on her bed- full of the ropes that had held her down.

Cut and forgotten they lie gathering dust for eternity.