The block

I want to write.

Yet I'm out of inspiration.
I'm writing worthless words.
Hoping for a good sensation.
None to be found.
This sucks.
I need some luck.

Trapped inside your mental box.
Wrapped around its many locks.
Must get free.
Help outer me.
But yet i crush her back.
 

This is the block.
Inside.
Trapped up by your many.
Lies.

Box or block.
Or is it both.
Outside and inside is just a hoax.
We are both.
Being crushed.
For what i write read you must.
So find the key.
And set me free.
Yet, fill my body with internal lust.