My lips are sealed
I cannot speak
My inspiration has gone,
Should I admit defeat?
As hard as I try
Nothing enters my mind
No original ideas
Not one of a kind
As much as I want to write with all of you
I just can't come up with the ideas to
So much great writing, every day
I can't think of what to write but I'll definitely stay
I'm so frustrated,
You wouldn't believe my rage
But I just keep staring
At a blank page
Your feedback helps natalee understand what's working
I don't have much to tell you. I'm Nat, I'm 15, and I'm ridiculously boring
Sit down and write Make words flow on command You expect some great work.
What to write. My inspiration, it's gone. Day or night. I always write two poems maybe one. Why?. Cant I write something good. My mind isn't being creative as it should. Now I am thinking and...
I miss the time when words came easily, when I'd spend my days thinking up ideas and my evenings writing them down.
If I could I would write a poem now. But my inspiration disappears somehow. But alright, I only want you to read something I post. But at night, that's when I post the most. I try to write a thing.
My sea of inspiration is running a little (a lot) dry, I sit with Opuss in my hands and all I can do is sigh.
The fire burns deep inside My yearning for to write But deep inside I cannot find The fuel to keep alight.
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,.
i sit down inspired, by writings admired. passed down through the years, with passion desired. yet, it seems so much lately, i've been so uninspired.
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