I wonder what you think of me
Writing out all these lines
Deep in the night

I am not crazy, though to write you have to be
And I am not masochistic
Although to write… well…

Turn my eyes in on my chest
Trying to dredge up something
That sounds at least good

The right word is on the tip of my tongue
But it’s gone in half a heartbeat
And good luck finding that again

Writer’s block is a terror to the system
And only release can ease the pressure
But is not always achieved

But is has to be
Otherwise you really will go mad
And then where will all my words be?