The blinking cursor mocks, the keyboard taunts,
The image I want to write in my mind it haunts.
To start, to put the first word is fleeting,
Like that nervous first greeting.
Will it come out right, will it come out at all.
Is it block or is this just a stall.
Am I afraid, that what finally hits is simply junk,
What if everything I write just stunk?
The easiest thing to do is walk away,
Save all that writing for a better day.
When i’m fresh, when the feeling is new,
When I can sit and know exactly what to do.
But I don’t quit, I don’t know that word,
I quell the voice and the defeat I thought I heard.
I type the first word and stare,
Knowing that to survive I must write like I don’t care.
Get it out, get it down just do what I do,
To my heart, to my self be true.
For as a writer, the hardest is the start,
For the world to see inside your heart.
Once I start I can now continue
Opening and breathing air through a new window.
Block you beast you did you best,
Now go hide until the next time you test.
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