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There's little balls of paper
Strewn across my floor
The words are resting in my heart
And I can't find the key to the door

I am so choked up with emotions
So many of the rainbow's hues
If I could just get it down on paper
Maybe I could chase away these blues

But my pen is writing only nonsense
Meaning nothing to no one at all
As I look at my fruitless writing
My teardrops start to fall

I've been told I'm a passable writer
But when I need it most it's not there
I can't seem to get across the feelings
The words I need just aren't there

So I sit here with a fistful of tissues
As my tears are now on the run
It seems my poem must end this way
The same as it was begun