Nothing

So funnily enough
I've nothing to write about
Everything seems okay
And there's nothing to cry about

Okay, maybe not nothing
But what am I to do
I'm grasping at straws
And I still can't break through

I never know what to say
Or how exactly to say it
I have puzzle pieces in my brain
But none of them seem to fit

Others make it look so easy
They use their language so well
But here I am in the dark, fumbling
On a fine line between heaven and hell

When my ink first touches the paper
It looks like a work of art
But later on I hate it
So I've no choice but to restart

I'm trying hard, I really am
With pen and paper by my side
I try to grab my thoughts
As they scatter and collide

Reading and rereading
Spreading apart old bits of paper
Looking through all of them closely
Maybe one of them hides a treasure?

But it's still the same
I've nothing to write about
Everything seems okay
And there's nothing to cry about

(Writing about a writer's block.... Who would've thought I could)