Writer’s Block


Just let me lie here,

Let me live with–

No no


The heart is a fragile thing, easily broken

Like a bir–

Shit, too sad


He stands there, casting a shadow no man could overcome

Greatness is a heavy load

What next? What makes him so great?


Take my hand

Let me protect y–

Romance? Again? Ugh.


What’s worse, having no story to tell or having too many trapped inside?

Is it better to never know the depths of your soul?

Or, to know and struggle to write your soul out loud?


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