The Poets Silent Pen/by:Haunted Lunacy

His hands trembling, the poet 

stares at the page.

Fear grips his mind,  

anxiety is his cage.

No words to say,

 no prose to write, 

Just shadows that whisper

 sweet nightmares

At night. His pen hovers 

above  the paper,

But the ink does not flow. 

His thoughts are too dark,

For the whole world to know.

Should he compose the delphic 

lyrics, that his madness provides?

Or lay down his pen, and trap 

them inside.

He sits and he ponders if he 

should put down his pen,

And leave the page blank, 

not stained with his sin.

The ink remains silent, 

his words kept within.

The poet rises from his desk,

And puts down his pen.