Shreds of paper beneath
Like shards of broken glass
An ice pick tickles the soul
As the body is constrained
With mind numbing stillness
All doors are frozen shut
Key holes without a fit
Mismatched socks
Mocking writer’s block
With an eternal red light
Train of thought stopped
In the middle of the track
Pens run dry with ink
But rivers flow with tears
Blank pages turn themselves
Until they go up in flames
Words are not permanent
Even cement finds crumble
The memory lasts for now
Until motion can prevail
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