Macabre Writers Block

[[Purple_Rain]]

Macabre Writers Block

Alone there he stands,
Pen and paper in hand
As it becomes the sword of the creative man
But when the sword becomes blunt
You’re lost, like the runt
and you’re left with no escape plan.

Except the one on your wrist
Already marked with death’s kiss
A telling sign of your pain dismissed

Forget feeling alive
As you fight to survive
Just living ‘till tomorrow, will do.

___________



I'm so cool.