The paper is blank, white and pristine,
Poised to received, to take the black ink;
Untainted and unmarked, clear and clean,
Whatever you wish to say, all that you think.
The blankness daunts you, but it's a clean slate,
Even if your mind is as blank as that page;
Take a deep breath, it is never too late,
Though the inability stirs up a potent rage.
Put your nerves in a grip, insecurities on a hold,
Put down one word, then two and then three;
Once begun, continue writing, strong and bold,
And the story takes form even if you cannot see.
All you need is to write, the reluctance to subdue;
The writer's block is tough but then so are you.

Another poem, a sonnet, for the 365 day challenge. And this is so true of me, if only I could get to the last line.