A thought begins
Then trails slowly
Out from behind the wall
Made of bricks
And lots of mortar.
To climb ensures a fall.
Back up once more
To travel far,
The words simply create.
Unfortunately, words
That once were strong
Can't break through the gate.
Words, no escape leaves
Endless thought causing
An extremely cluttered mind.
Travelling the road
That leads to the cliff
Only to fall off you'd find.
Bruised and broken,
In need of rework
As they climb out of the pit,
Words written down
Then torn in two
Because they just don't fit.
An awful nightmare
To be witness
To the quickness of the clock
As the seconds turn
To minutes, then hours
For a writer in writer's block.
� Kathee Tschudy, April 20, 1998
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