It's been a while that my emotions have been slaughtered
But their dead bodies lay on the unbound bare ground
As my ink still struggles to weave a coffin
Like always...memories of mine
Thrown away by many
Lay naked on footpaths
However this time ,
My quill couldn't cover them with rhyme.
IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL WRITER'S BLOCK ?
The nightmares I dreamt
Lay disemboweled
Staining every piece of earth I could feel under my feet
But I stand helpless today
As my verses fail to cover them up
IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL WRITER'S BLOCK ?
Wait don't skitter upstairs
Because the worse is yet to come downstairs
There is this bleeding heart
Which lay in a cart
A cart that is chosen by many
Tossed by many more
And vandalised to the core.
I am frozen
As neither haiku nor epic tale
Come to rescue this heart of a female
Who could no longer dwell on feminism or male chauvinism
Everything has been put up
For everything has been penned down
IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL WRITER'S BLOCK ?
I don't believe in happy endings
But still I write one
In a hope...
Not of life happening that way
But of death giving life it's end in that sway.
It sounds deadly
But then why haven't you come to mourn my dear pages?
IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL WRITER'S BLOCK ?
The homeless me stands in the middle of nowhere
Those spaces between the wounds have thrown me away
And the lines between the lines do not take me as a tenant anymore
My mind is in the spell of whiskey
For the unwritten ideas hurt more than the unfulfilled ones
My hands don't drink any kind of alcohol
For nothing gets them high other than poetry
But that's unavailable!!
My soul is looking for its own parts
Which were shred long ago
To create something that will still take time to be written down
IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL WRITER'S BLOCK ?
©tiawritz