My inspiration's running low,
Ideas have almost ceased to flow,
My brain is sluggish, half asleep,
My thoughts are scattered in a heap;
My pen lies idle in my hand,
It doesn't seem to understand
What it should do; it doesn't move,
Remaining as if in a groove;
I just can't write; it's all a blur,
Creative thoughts refuse to stir;
But I think I know what's wrong with me,
I badly need a cup of tea.
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