The words used to come to my fingers so easily
I'd pick up the pen and write a poem so mindlessly
Now I pick up a pen and hold it for a while
When I'm done I've got nothing on the page, no style
How does this happen, where did it go
Why did my inspriration fly away, tell me if you know
I'd write so often about the sad things in my life
The troubles with my job, my problems with my wife
All of my problems have been cleared up
I guess that's why my pen has dried up
If you know a way to inject some ink
Without causing turmoil in my life please speak
If its true that misery breeds creativity
Leave me be with my writer's blocked, I don't want your pity
I'll take my carefree life and my dry pen
And hope I never have cause to write again You can join Unsolved Mysteries and post your own mysteries or
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