A writer's common sickness

White paper note
blank.
Like a long white coat
No ideas. No hopes, no dreams,
You get the point,
I don't have to stretch it to the extremes,
The way it goes,
It twists your mind
like you lost all your ideas,
on a stupid billboard sign.

Your mind goes blank,
Your vision becomes as stiff as a plank,
Black swirls up the whole white paper,
and just like that,
you disapear like a vapor,

into a world where simplicity rules,
No original ideas, just blank word pools,
Then as the white paper begins to swallow you up,
Small ideas and intentions swell right back,
Your mind started clearing out,
Now it's not black.
And your whole writing sickness is torn away,
and stored inside a sack.

Now you might think it's the plague,
Or some kind of desease that is pretty vague,
but before I let you panic, or let you pout,
I'm no doctor,
but I'm sure you had a simple case of writing black out!