I may never write again,
in this wordless void
I feel helpless, hopeless,
a stressed out mess.

Thoughts evaporate
into clouds of mist
high above my head.
I feel numb, dumb
and distressed.

Hot tears rain down
upon an empty page.
This is disastrous,
a bloody catastrophe,
I rage.

My fingers type
as the keyboard wobbles
under pressure
from a virgin sheet,
all sterile.

What trick is this,
that my wordiness
should be stubbed out
like a half smoked

by Ruth Walters

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