I enslaved my brain and I have become a cruel and brutal master.
I angrily forced and battered it to generate ideas.
It was totally blank for anything.
But his caring friend, Pity, persuaded me.
I gave it a chance.
It’s last chance.
It told me in its last dying breath to write its experience with me.
Guilt swapped places with Anger.
What have I done?
No it’s not a poem. Apparently for me, having mental block can be beneficial. Why? The post above.
RedefiningRandom 