Numb power

Sometimes I stare in a spot
in the empty space before me.
My senses go numb –
there, but not responding.

And there is so much to awaken,
I can feel it boiling inside.
But a strong and unknown power
keeps it like an iron guard.  

Sometimes, I manage to beat it.
My weapon is my pen.
On the page, the ink starts flowing.
Blood starts moving through my veins.  

The battle is never-ending and rough,
with an invisible but present enemy.
I crave to defeat it,
but it belongs deep within me.  

Without this numb power.
Without the frozen senses.
My muse I cannot discover,
I cannot break my own fences.

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