Pen on paper.
But nothing more.
Ink pressing into the void.
Missing the words.
The language.
Only sentiment, raw and useless.
Thoughts are clouded.
Trying to find you in the silence.
Eyes staring at blank pulp praying for inspiration
like water.
Without you, I am lost.
Floundering in my own misery.
Pathetic and alone.
Scrambling to find myself among the pieces.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Writer's Block Haiku A single blank page Is the only thing between Me and my freedom.