I breathe in ideas
And with my pen I give them life
Inventing worlds all around me
My characters haunting me daily
About what will happen next
Honestly, I don’t have a clue
What the next scene should do.

And so, they stay unfinished
I’ve blocked them out
My time is occupied and distracted
By everyday life.

They begin to scream and shout
Collecting dust as their story has run out
Mocking.
What kind of writer does not write?
All their character flaws begin to creep out.
Leaving me with such little time
Exhausted. Uninspired. Burnt out.

I guess I will write another time.

M.STEIN