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Rated: E · Poetry · Writing · #1781103
Lost in the infinite depth of the page, the writer looks for himself
Black versus white, ink on the page, emptiness profound,
With every thousand fleeting thoughts only one is ever found,
I must mark my creations, this catalogue of me,
But the empty page, it laughs as I fight to set them free.
It taunts me with its barren white, just waiting to be filled,
Mocking my creative desperation to surmount this latest hill.

This mental cage, my paper prison – a cathartic reverie,
The wall the page embodies, is the wall I find in me,
Breaking my own boundaries with every written word,
I find more of myself as my inner voice is heard,
But the page goes on – eternal – with every border crossed,
This prison is a maze, in which my mind is lost.
© Copyright 2011 Shane Greenhough (shaneg at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1781103-Writers-Block