Write my way out
I need a little help
Cannot perform anything by myself
Got all the tools and still can’t work
Or maybe my conscious is a jerk
Blurt lines but a doer wins seventy-seven times seven
And the jackpot is unseen yeah it’s Heaven
Better than remaining silent on the side
Biggest critics can’t write, their papers slide
Off desks, as we expose thoughts boldly
Inside, held feelings become moldy
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How can we explain the release it’s like a perfectly shaped bookmark in an inviting crease
Especially when the writer’s block is deceased
Piece of peace pieced together warm fleece
Battling the beast on paper read among neighbors
Write our way through this fog God blesses our labor.
