I have tried and failed.

Tried and failed, again.

Then tried and failed some more.

Perhaps it’s me.

Maybe the reason that

words don’t spill

from my mouth to the page

is simply because there is nothing to say.

Nothing profound,

At least.

I have tried to figure out what sounds best;

Should I write about love?

Conquered and lost?

Tried and true?

No.

I simply know nothing about love.

Perhaps I can write

about the beauty in the mundane,

but that would sound redundant.

I could write about nature;

sunsets that shimmer across the seas

and stars that stretch across the skies.

No.

That’s all been done before.

Perhaps, the most profound thing,

is nothing at all.