The page still remains blank

Trying to pen down the emotions,
but failing so undeniably.
Starting by capturing one thought,
and sugar coating it with ornamental words.

The page still remains blank.
The head still remains busy fighting, 
the unwanted thoughts.
Eyes get heavier and turn down,
the proposal to compose something beautiful.

Managed to scribble something like a line, 
which fall short to mean anything.
The words are scattered everywhere,
and I can't frame it together. 

The page still remains blank.
Words are sore from being used,
over and over again.
They have switched sides,
and have refused to divulge,
the premonition and apprehension.

After two hours, ten minutes, 
and twelve seconds later,
The page still remains blank.
Seems like it's time to give up the battle.

It's time to put down the pen,

and get up from the chair.

It's time to turn down the lights,

and lie on the cold matres.

It's time to close eyes and, 
let the dreams fill the void.