The pen talks to me,

but the words fall in silence.

And the page remains blank,

and I hit the wall.

The pen screams to be heard,

but its screams fall on deaf ears.

And my mind grows numb,

so I feed it mindless entertainment.

As I sit before the visions created

by those holding their own dreams

in hand

does a spark break the dark,

and I grab the pen.

And the walls fall down,

and the pen talks to me.

Words pour

across the page

with my vision,

my dreams

in hand.

Road Block

by, Melissa R. Mendelson