Just Someday, in the Future, I'll Forget What This Poem was Supposed to be About

I'll write this poem for myself.
It's not easy trying to find the right words
Most of the time I just let them flow
At times like these, when I'm feeling heavy, and I want to pour it all out,
but it's hard
that I am hindered,
that I am blocked,
I get frustrated
It's a great time to get the poetic juices flowing
It's a great time to use all the ink
It's hard when it's all forced
This isn't the way it should go
This isn't the way it should be
I'm holding the pen with one topic in mind,
Instead, I'm writing about how I couldn't write about it
I sigh as I set the pen down and go sulk under the sheets