Writer's Block Poem by Tamika Robinson

Sitting in a corner, she writes
Of her days as they go by.
Sitting alone and yet does not cry,
For she lets all of her emotions fly.
From her fingers, they flow
And she feels herself grow,
As though she'd be seeing tomorrow.
And yet,
She's always numb,
Unbelievably dumb,
Completely consumed in her sorrow.
She knows not what to write,
She know not what to jot,
So she sits in her dark corner and rots.
She's all alone,
In a 'no happiness' zone,
Whoever sees her cry, she cares not.