It is a disease, a sickness, a monster that grips you when you least expect it.
It shows its self through flat characters and erased paragraphs,
It is the thing that rots in the Recycle Bin on your desktop, when ideas no longer flow in your mind.
It is the blank pages, the crumbled papers, the sharpened pencil that never dulls.
It is the entity we know as Writers Block.
It lives and breathes with the flames of a dragon, with the venom of a snake.
This entity is the thing we fear most that occupies the spaces we care most about.
It devours creativity,
It claws through characters,
And tears down plots,
This entity consumes ideas and does it in a joyous feast.
This is the creature we know as Writers Block.
Not all suffer from this unique periodic disorder though.
It is us: the creators, the inventors, the authors, and big dreamers.
It is the ones who think outside of the box, that fall prey to this beast
For that is where it lurks,
In the place that society fears most,
It is that itch inside your brain that you just can’t seem to scratch.
That burning behind your eyes that makes you cry tears
It is that thing that leaves you aching and praying that it’ll soon disappear.
But that is the problem with Writers Block.
The more you force yourself to write the more it devours.
It becomes a steel wall between lovers; you & writing
It makes you drop your pencil, to put down your pen and think
‘When did this begin?’
For Writers Block is a spirit.
Something that perhaps already lives within,
It takes you back to the starting place
The first time you trusted your pen, your pencil
To convey your thoughts and ideas
Writers Block is a piece of your soul that has not yet fully developed,
But screams with such intensity to be whole that it drowns out everything else.
It is an idea not yet finished,
That forces you to stop, to wait, to truly think.
Whether it be for pleasure or recognition,
You realize why you began to write to begin with.
Writers Block is something that when it’s ready to leave
in its place lies