I've nothing to write
My brain is dead
The words have all fallen
Out of my head
I search for a pen
There's no ink inside
The trees that made paper
Have long ago died
My mind is all cluttered
My fingers are cold
Old thoughts are dying
And new thoughts are old
Yet the thoughts that I think
And each tear of grief
Look for words of sunshine
And a paragraph of relief
There's a poem inside of me
It itches to be written
A novel gnaws my dreams
But I cannot be bitten
My face is still blank
My eyes full of snow
Something wants out
But I'm just too slow
There was nothing yesterday
There'll be nothing tonight
There won't be anything, ever
As I've nothing to write