I do not know what I’m to do -
my brain has let me down.
I don't have inspiring ideas;
I only have a frown.
Stories that once seemed
filled with action and adventure,
Now seem dreary and bleak
with plots that are antique.

Of course, I've heard of writer’s block,
but never thought it could happen to me!
I thought that I was special,
that my work was never dull.
But now it has occurred to me
that I am not unique.
I never was a perfect kid,
a prodigy, or star.
I never stood out in a crowd,
my friends were never wowed.

I guess that we must realize this,
if we hope to succeed.
But what about the famous,
the ones who make a fuss?
Why can’t we all just be like them?
Or why can’t they just be like us?
I thought that I had figured it out,
that I was better than the rest.
But now I see that all of us could have been the best.