What to write? What to write?

I stare at this little blinking line, mocking me with its emptiness,

"fill me, fill me up with your words" it speaks yet no words can fill up these blank sheets.

What to write? What to write?

I never really know.

At this point I've learned to just let the words flow.

I'll come back to them later.

That's what I always say but on the pages is where those words stay.

What to write? What to write?

I haven't got a clue.

I wish I could write something.

Anything.

But every time I try my words sound so blue.

What to write? What to write?

I really wish I knew