I'm am currently arguing with my muse,
Who just gave me the news,
She's done giving up ideas on loan,
And now I'm left to write this poem on my own.

I twirl my pencil around in my hand,
and try my hardest to meet my works demand.
It's not going very well,
As you can probably tell,
but at least I tried

I have nothing to write of now,
But that won't keep me from trying,
I could say there is no hope left for a new work,
But I'm not a fan of lying.

So I bust out some crappy rhyme,
It may take some time,
But at least the page isn't blank,