I’m sitting in the cafeteria,
trying to find out different topics to write about.
Looking around and starring off at blank walls.
nothing has popped up in my head,
The struggle is real,
especially when you are a writer who’s trying to work on their craft.
I have so many ideas and topics and don’t know which way to go.
I’m writing and writing,
not one poem has been completed.
I write one line and think it sounds like crap.
I tare it up and move on to the next sheet of paper.
I have plenty of ripped sheets of paper on a
gray round table.
And people look at me like I’m crazy to see what am I doing.
I feel like going crazy because all these topics and scrambled words are in my head.
I still have writers block.
I’m tired of sitting in this cafeteria.
Trying to figure out what to write about.
I’m stuck in a blank stare.
I’m going through a crises.
The frustration is real.
The confusion is real.
The anger is real.
These topics are gone out my head.
I still can’t find anything to write about.
I feel like throwing all my pens and paper away.
Pens are running out of ink.
My paper running low.
And then I find stacks of paper in my book bag.
I’m sick and tired of writing unfinished poems in my notebooks that has no meaning.
I’m sick and tired of being in this cafeteria.
Legs shaking,
My face expressions scaring everybody away.
Frustration in the cafeteria is real.
I got so much frustration,
it seems like I’m doing homework.
I’m just looking for some inspiration.

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