Writer's Block Oxymoronized

Maybe if I Start Spouting Out Notes it'll Miraculously Turn Into a Beautiful Song

These days are tearing at my penmanship
Dusting over the cover of my heart
Dearest, I just want to write it down
No soul, no magic, no novelty, no art
I just want to write it down.

These days are wearing down my patience
Forcing the weather to restrain and withhold
Dearest, the weather is burning inside me
And it's tearing apart these walls with its hurricane
I just want to write it down.

But the pages still contain only lines
Where words had danced until they were perfect
And the lines contain only black
Where my ink chose to blot itself out
So my soul remains hidden behind this shell of me
And my notebook remains empty except for this