Writers’ Block is my Homie

The scene opens in a ladies restroom at the mall,

(Bear with me, this might get a bit weird .)

A high pitched squeal with a triumphant shriek,

There's a woman who has started to cheer.

30 pounds ago since she last wore that skirt.

A huge grin says she's happy to be alive.

Now moonwalking her way across the tile,

As she passes, she gives us all a high-five.

"What's going on?" Someone asks "Are you okay?"

"Hell yes!!" She screams "I started!!"

And now I get that gleeful look on her face,

like a 10 year old boy who just farted.

I've slipped up myself, it was always a relief

Accidental babies, I prefer to avoid.

Responsible women who keep track those things

Never see Aunt Flo and become overjoyed.

I'm a weird one I guess, I like my Aunt Flo,

And I like Writers Block, they're dating.

He's fat and he smells weird, and ate all my food,

Without a doubt he's super-irritating.

It sounds like I should hate him. Most people do.

But I've uncovered an important connection. 

Writers Block only visits when I'm happy & content,

He leaves when my mood changes direction.

That's why I write the way I do, 

always dark and depressing and fearful.

But I swear there are times when I'm funny & light, 

I just get Blocked on those days that I'm cheerful.