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Three MiceTick tock tick tock,
watch white mice run up the clock.
The first of them falls,
the next hits the wall,
sent flying by a well aimed shoe
thrown by a hideous shrew,
the unfortunate wife,
that causes much strife,
of the man of the house
who is like the poor mouse,
hiding from the rampaging witch.
But perhaps there is chance for a switch.
The third mouse is cunning indeed,
surely of a different breed.
Making it to the top of his tower
he gathers his little power.
With the greatest of leaps
and he soon starts to sweep
the clock straight off its stand
and is on a straight trajectory to land
atop the head of that horrible tramp
Title PendingA writer's block,
What a crock!
Just because your flock
Of ideas are under lock
And chain you believe
You have right to relieve
Your so called disease
On us, your audience.
So please, at your convenience,
Shut your trap
And silently map
Out a new track
For your next train of thought.
Fellow writers do not be distraught
For we all at one point have sought
The cure to writer's block.