Writers Block

Who knows what reading writes?

On the edge of writing paper

Is it now the sudden mystery

Or is it now the quiet caper

Does it scribble out in shaded black

Of the murder in my mind.

Is it something strange that takes you back

Like poetry, meter and rhyme.

Can the fantasy I cannot see

Scream out write me down.

Or is it tears I haven't shed

The story of my dying clown

I know this much. I think at least

I hope it’s very true.

I'll write it here, and it will be great.

Or it won't be read by you.