The curse of a writer

Is about something you think of
But no oppertunity to write it down
It boards your train of thoughts
And it leaves you with a frown

You had such a briliant thought
That it seemed impossible to forget
A minute ago you where full of it
But now you’re only filled with regret

A death before the birth was given to the paper
Something that happened many times before
The curse, not to learn your lesson
Your own stubborness to abhore

Digging deeper only widens the pitfall
In which no words of wisdom you will find
Tread this world with the cruel reminder
That once again….., I have lost my mind