A Grey ProblemMy pen scratches the paper like a needle on a record with monochrome soundPushing my mind to its limits to find an answer, I look aroundI shut my eyes and feel the darkness surrounding me as I look into the depths of my mindIn the caves of my nerves there was nothing to findI open to my eyes, displeased; there was nothing on the paperWas my creativity turned into a grey vapor?I try to scratch out the wordsIt comes out in thirdsThe frustration builds up and pours outWhat is this all about?My pen scratches the paper like a needle on a record with monochrome sound.