writers block

i can't seem to find words that better my thoughts
i keep grasping at metaphors and my similes are weak
don't know whats lost on me or if it were ever within me
words are the weapons of mass destruction
and can't seem to even shove forward food for thought
i don't know why, if my preoccupied state of mind
has left me bereft of imagination, of feeling
of soul, I used to just think of something or someone
and images would burn into my thoughts and
light thought my fingers for all to see
I used to close myself and describe a starry night
as a velvet blanket sprinkles with peals of light
i use to look at a sunset and imbibe its awe striking beauty
Alas a block, a brick of wall has set itself in front of me
has cornered me and I can't see anything beyond them
I feel lost in a maze of never ending gardens
cannot find words to say the very things in my heart
cannot find peace....
Writing is cathartic and i have not found a medicinal equivalent
its unleashes and eases my soul as effectively
as writing my life in words
finding those inscriptions in my mind
and put them on paper
to recognize me, with words
writers block is killing me