Writer's Block

Writer’s Block

Feels like my wells of inspiration have run dry.
I haven’t penned a poem
In what seems like ages.
Nothing seems right anymore,
Nothing inspires,
Nothing flows,
Nothing rocks me to the core.
My head’s all full of shoo-bop-bops and literary terms,
With no room left for words,
Sweet words.
There’s too much hustle,
Too much hassle.
I sit in a bare college classroom and discuss poetry,
But inside, I think I’ve lost it.
I think there’s an edge I’ve been standing on,
Been teetering on for so long,
And I’m one step closer now
And close to going over.
If the words won’t flow,
Like rivers, from my fingers
To flood the paper with my thoughts,
What can I do?