Writer's Block

Staring upon a blank sheet of paper
The inability to throw creativity into words
Thousands of ideas may rush to your head
But not one of them is complete

Words fill the lines of the notebook
But they are not good enough
The eraser attacks the paper
Graphite is smeared like blood

The paper has become imperfect
Its assassin dumps its remains
Its body lies with many others
None were good enough

A perfectionist with writer's block
Is a paper's greatest fear
They lay helplessly in a perfect stack
Waiting to be destroyed

They have no legs, they cannot run
No mouth to scream or shout
Instead they stare at the first in line
Wondering if it is their time

This paper knows it's fortunate
For it has been given a name
It has more than enough words
And it can see its writer's mind

No more paper shall die for a time
For the writer is satisfied
Still the perfect stack awaits
For his thoughts to block his mind