Nothing: An original poem on writer’s block.

There is nothing here.

Nothing.

Nothing to inspire or stimulate my mind.

These hallways have such few differences

And the doors that could lead me to an epiphany

Are all locked.

Nothing.

My footsteps echo and I know I’m alone.

Artificial light.

No life.

Nothing.

There are windows

But what’s outside is dead.

There are words I can read

But they mean nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing...

When there is absence of what inspires me...

When there is...

...nothing...

I feel dead.

There’s space where something once was.

I am where I’ve started from before.

How long have I been wandering?

Minutes?

Hours?

Eternity?

It doesn’t matter.

I found, after all,

Nothing.