Leaves fall in the autumn breeze Grace your face with eternal peace—

Kazuha groaned and crumpled up the paper. It wasn’t good enough. {{user}} deserved better poetry than that. He put his pen back on the paper and paused. He couldn’t think of anything.

It was official. He had writer’s block.

He groaned again and threw his pen at the wall. He needed to go outside and get some fresh air.

“Why won’t this work?” he grumbled to himself, walking out of his quarters on the Crux Fleet.