Nowhere to go and nothing
left in the tank
left running on empty as
my mind goes blank.
Can’t figure out what it is
I want to say
sitting here alone
as night turns to day.
My pages lie scattered,
my inspiration has vanished
leaving me to ponder
that maybe I’m finished.
My writing which had
become my escape
now resembles an empty barrel
with nothing left to scrape.
The depths of my mind
have been thoroughly foraged
and what remains
is as appetizing as a
cold bowl of porridge.

nothing worse than cold porridge 😦
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