Sometimes, I have 
dry times
My word-weaving is 
It is not easy to put
my thoughts on paper
I look around
But it is as if a blind is up
A veil
Hiding the inner world
I am so accustomed 
to communing with
Words don't pour in
a torrent
Not even a steady trickle
Only a drip here and a drip there
My writing is tiny, tense,
holding back the flow
Please release
Please wake up
Don't sleep
Don't sleep

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