Writer's Block

Three o'clock in the morning.

The pen mocks me as the paper guffaws.

The bed enchants me with a dark lullaby.

My muse lays across it, sleeping,

Hands wrapped around the numerous pillows,

Falling fast into dreamland.

So here I sit, alone.

The dark prince of felines in one corner,

The familiar pang of pent up emotions challenging me in the other.

I need inspiration.

Another sleepless night stuck in writer's block.