What is a writer to do?
When they cannot think of something new.
The fragments of my mind all crumbled up,
Tossed to the ground,
While I dig something else up.
The ink bleeds from its pages,
Leaves me with empty spaces.
Read them aloud so you don’t forget them now.
Rereading my work,
Looking for inspiration somehow.
Don’t have a clue,
What the next scene should do.
When all I have is crumbled pages for you.

M.STEIN