Brain Dead

My brain is trying but try it may
It simply cannot, cannot find a way
Of getting pen to paper,
Words to screen.
It feels as if it’s been wiped clean
Of thoughts and feelings,
Words and phrases,
People’s names and famous places.
Why, brain, why must you act this way?

I try to think, and try to see
But when I do you cease to be.
You simply shrivel, shrink and shy
Away from what I want to know and why.
You never gleam, you never glow,
You simply sit up there in woe.

Tired, aching, withered brain
Your literature expires.
An endless spiral steals the rhyme,
Like devils from their fires.

The End

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