the glowing screen blank
she had discarded paragraphs
unhappy with every word she had written
time set aside for writing
she couldn't concentrate
plagued by thoughts
of earlier worries
she thought in disgust
tears of frustration
pricked the back of her eyes
she wrote one sentence, then two
sentences mounted, creating paragraphs
of pure, uninspired drivel


Found Poem 
"From Chapter 21, Bone Cold, by Erica Spindler."