Rain! I need rain! My brain has gone dry.

My ideas have stopped coming and I cannot tell why.

Could my mind be a well, storing thoughts that rain down,

And from it I fetch my ideas that astound?

If this is the case, I remember a time

When my well overflowed from the storms in my mind.

I felt I might drown in this powerful sea

For my papers were over-filled with creativity.

Now my memories of those floods seem so far away

For the skies of late have been as clear as today.

The lack of this rain has caused a great drought

And the well of my brain has seemed to dry out.

So I'm left uncertain if more clouds will appear

To end my mind's draught, which I've now come to fear.



Perhaps my mind's like a factory, producing my thought.

My brain cells as workers, who use what they've got

To inspire me, and start my genius to flow.

But if the factory can go under, I'm afraid I don't know.

Currently it seems that my factory's not running,

Dull and lifeless ideas replace those that were cunning.

Why aren't my brain cells thinking up new inspirations?

Are they sick? How 'bout sleeping? On strike? On vacation?

Has the factory closed down? Or did it just break?

Have my brain cells taken all the stress they can take?

The causes for mind block, which I'm trying to find

Are countless, and endangering what's left of my mind.

Going crazy won't help me, so out my window I gaze

And pray my mind will start raining, or accept a pay raise.