I Got Nothin

An empty page
Staring blankly
Back at me.
Oh how I think
I'm clever.
I don't suppose
I even care
If anyone laughs
But me.
So why
Is an empty page
So daunting
When my mind
Cannot bring
A poetic thought
To the screen?
Why does it feel
As if the flashing
Of the cursor
Is like a clock
Ticking away
Reminding me
Of my failure
To create.
Perhaps
If I can be pleased
With making myself
Laugh,
I can make do
With writing down
The random thoughts
That flow
Through my mind,
Space them out,
And call it a poem.
Oh how I think
I'm clever.