words, whispered into my ear.
ideas, flowing, growing, browsing through my mind.
put together, pretty words on a piece of paper.
one moment a genius idea, a masterpiece and original,
the next second, a cliche, boring, predictable.
it's always the same, just in other wording.
just in a different order.
i've got nothing, nothing to give, nothing to lose.
something other's called writers block,
i'd like to call it a moment out of the flow.