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Writers Block
Sometimes,
I spill my blood onto the paper
In an attempt to empty my mind.
Sometimes,
I hide bright colors in the ink
So my thoughts aren’t coated in grey.
Sometimes,
I use up hours of my time
Trying to translate my heart to my head.
But sometimes,
Forming words are an impossible feat,
Let alone beautiful ones.
![](http://cdn.teenink.com/art/Sept05/What_Happened_To_Justice72.jpeg)
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