Just Another Book

Blank page

At a constant battle with the blank page,

My fingers tremble with rage.

There's so much I want to write about,

About all the voices inside my head

Who constantly shout.

But as soon as I sit down to write,

The voices shut up

And it's suddenly quite.

But I need those voices

To keep me distracted

And when they don't return

My thoughts start to wander

In dark lanes

It travels to the future

And past

The scariest of them is the present

Followed by decisions I resent.

I wait for the voices to return

But they keep getting lost

And I blame the confusing turns

And the dreadful traffic

But the voices are fickle minded

There's so much they want to say

But look there's a puppy playing a piano.