On Writer’s Block

I feel it, at the tips of my mind
Like stars that shine for billions of years
Before bursting to dust and leaving
the darkness behind for us to wander through
Without any idea where we’re going,
Only knowing that we need to be somewhere
and we need to be there soon.

A story that needs to be told,
it begs me, claws at my soul like a child
Aching for mommy to let it play
outside in the snow, leaving prints
Others can follow or leave behind,
Whatever they want to do. I can’t
Force them to listen to me, of course
They’ve never cared before.

I yearn to say what it is I know needs to be said
It’s there, it’s screaming at me in silent thought
That I can’t piece together because the pieces
are not fitting perfectly right, and I’m missing a few.
Where are you? I know you’re there,
I can feel you in my heart, beating words
that don’t sound like English, but instead
a gibberish that I’m meant to understand.

“Tell me” pumps through my veins
Like a train on a track that’s never turning back
But instead will power on without me,
Leaving me to run after it, waiving my arms and begging
“No, I didn’t understand! Don’t leave me here”
But it will, and I’ll sit when I’m too tired to stand
And think about what I’m missing on the back of my hand
Until the idea turns to dust and dies somewhere in my mind.

It’s buried in a nameless grave.
“Here lies John Doe,
A story I could not save”

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