Shot Through the Writer’s Head

The writer’s imagination

Is no match for

The evil damnation

Writer’s block strikes at the core

No longer lured by muse’s temptation

Written word becomes a bore

Reality settles, no longer vacation

No more fiction or folklore

Trapped in her self-created nation

No more magic upon her shore

No fuel for her creation

The block leaves her head sore

Nothing left for stimulation

Her muse knocks not on her door

 

Now read from bottom to top.

 

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