I stare at my black leather bound book,
Holding back blank parchment,
Next to it there lies my pen,
And then I realise, with a start,
I'm lost of inspiration,
Been pouring my words out,
Since 5:00 in the morn and I guess I just haven't stopped once,
Suddenly my head starts spinning,
The words spill out over the floor,
My mind is dead and I have no clue,
To just what I should do,
All my skills have left me,
Can't make pace or rhyme,
My syllables have left me stranded,
I need time,
To drink my coffee,
And gather inspiration.
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