Writers Block

I'm tryng to write,
but the words won't come to me
I'm stuck in a slump.
i can't think of anything.

I'm looking at this page
with a blank stare.
Why can't i write when before
i could just pull things out the air?

My paper turns black
as i make my pen bleed.
Everything i write i scribble out
this isn'y what i chose to be.

See, I wanna be a writer,
but i don't wanna think.
My pens almost dead
it's almost out of ink.

I have nothing to go on,
but these scribbled out lines.
That iv'e turned to doodles
nothing speaks out or rhymes.

I'm suffering from a disease
that all writers succumb.
It's an epidemic with no cure
no remedy, nothing, none.

It last as long as it wants.
All we can do is sit and wait it out,
and hope that we write again,
but the longer it last the more we doubt.

That we will never overcome
the sickness which ails us,
but we keep on writing
because in our pen we trust.

To guide our thoughts,
and put them on our paper.
We owe everything to our pen.
They live and die like a savior.

My hats off to this little unknown,
who pulled me out from under my rock
because this unsung hero
i found the cure to writers block.