Blank inspiration

I sit down and try and write down what's going through my head,
But my pen does not write, enough said.
Its ink is intact but my hand does not move,
My head does not know what to do.

I have everything I need,
But I fail to succeed.
Different colored pens, and papers are laid on my table,
But of no writing I am able.

I am so lost in my own world,
and everything seems curled.
My thoughts are messed,
I feel so stressed!

I used to write pages without thinking,
And now I feel like everything is just sinking.
In a boat where I have no destination,
I need a talent donation.

Its the wrong time,
But its not as sour as lime.
In fact its sweet,
I've never been more on my feet.

I continue to hide,
What I feel inside.
Not willingly but because I have no choice,
I've lost my voice.

I silently scream what I need you to know,
But outside its starting to snow.
I don't feel cold,
And again the pen I hold.

It does not write,
I still think that it might.
But nothing happens and I give up,
Put my pen away and my papers.

Once again I was unable to write what I wanted,
And by what I left unsaid I am haunted.
Thoughts scream at me,
But I ignore them happily.

Its the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you,
But no one's got a clue.
And the one's who can tell are just a few,
But I take a different pen and paper and write something new.