coffee cup sits 'fore me now half-filled.
me now how oft the thing was dry
all the night spent I upon the keys --
hot and fingers sore this morn.
look upon the pages now with scorn;
what is on the pages does not please.
G-d have I what I have done or why
has the writing not in me instilled?
hellish curse once more has come on me
paper sits in tray bereft of word
sentence – just there sits with look of glee.
feel ashamed and damn this spell absurd.
dry again this cup much like my brain,
load more paper and must try again.