Writers Sock I thought that I had writers block, But then I had an itch, It was underneath my sock, The annoying little bitch, So as I scratched and scratched away, My thoughts began to wander, And a lightbulb in my head went 'aye!', And that really made me ponder, I began to think is there such a thing, As this 'writers block?', At this thought other bulbs went ping, So I put back on my sock, Suddenly I drew a blank, My thoughts just went and vanished, Then my heart just kind of sank, And I began to panic, What if this socks holding me back, What if it's the cause, Of my writers block all stacked, Then I truly paused, If this sock has an agenda, Then what of other socks? Will they attack in all their splendour? If so that'd be a shock... So now I'm sitting at my table, Writing this all out, And all I've learned from this fable, Is to have no doubt, As writers block you'll be glad to hear, Has nothing to do with socks, And the reason I'm barefoot my dear, Is that it really is quite hot...