Demerit
P:407
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Empty and blank,
The sheet stares back
Notes, pages, piles, reams
Coffee stains, broken pencils, ruined dreams
Convoluted metaphors strewn crumpled on the floor
Vacant words on vacant pages, pent-up feelings trapped in cages
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Pretty words so meaningless
Thoughts void of intelligence
Nonsense, sentence
Creativity to death
Mediocrity is all i've left
Lack of inspiration, the noose around my muse's neck
It keeps me from going under
The noose around my muse's neck