Writers' block
Writers' block
Hands move around the clock
Got to try to find the time
To think and write the perfect rhyme

To write of love and it's pain when lost
To know regret and it's unearthly cost
When the most important thing is lost to you
And it's your fault: there's nothing you can do

I want to beg, I want to plead
But in the end, it's not what we need
I've lost what I love to a very dear friend
And though it's my fault I can't bear it to end

So I sit in the dark holding my tears
Or I lay in the sun realizing my fears
In the end I'm alone of my own devices
But I have to let go of my personal crisis.

And may I never be that person again.