writer's block

My computer is dead again, 

It's another excuse not to write. 

My hand is cramping from playing, 

But all the songs don't sound right. 

 

They don't quite understand it, 

How can I still be sad? 

I've spent too long behind, 

And they don't really care about that. 

 

I've been breathing since last week,

Maybe I'm finally improving. 

Though I spent last night crying, 

I was on my bedroom floor; unmoving. 

 

I've been thinking it over a million times, 

I still don't know if I should stay. 

I don't want to be trapped anymore, 

My skies are all turning grey. 

 

I can't find any pencils, 

And my fingers won't type. 

So I'll just stare at the white ceiling, 

With not a single word to write. 

izz_midnight

NH

16 years old

More by izz_midnight

  • observation iii

    We run back to your house,

    The lights are still on,

    And they cover your freckled face,

    Like it's the sun.

     

    The grass brushes our feet,

    And the wind catches in your hair,

  • observation ii

    We sit out on the sand,

    The fog covers the sky,

    And blankets the world,

    Like a shield. 

     

    The waves nip at our feet,

    The water's cold

    But I'm warm because you hold my hand,

  • observation i

    We stand on the dock,

    The sun has set,

    But I can see your happiness 

    Even in the dead of night.

     

    The streetlight's on,

    The metal is all rusted

    And covered in salt,