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Writer's Block
Michelle, Age 15, Maple Ridge, BC

The page pure as snow
Iím ready to go
For my brain to flow
But oh!

A block! Yes, a block
It came in a flock
Nestled in the lock
And set my mind to know.

The pencils are set
The windows are wet
With the rain, I bet
And my mind races to and fro

My mind at a gaze
My eyes all a glaze
My soul in a maze
And still I wonder, oh.

My fingers are still
My mouth remains ill
My aura in a pill
And my thoughts set in woe.

I dare not to think
That Iíve run out of ink
All thoughts down the drink
And still I tremble, oh.

What shall happen to me
I wonít wait and see
How life shall be
If a writerís block sets itís foe.

But who would have thunk
That Iíd clean out the gunk
And type out a hunk
Of gold, I wouldnít know

But Iíve beat it for good
Like all writers should
I knew I could
The block, Iíve beaten, Oh!

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