Unlipogrammatic

The words, they flow, a river in my head,
But o  this page, a crippled stream they e d.
That little ' ' key, a villai true,
Defyi g se se, obstructi g every verse.
I feel the lack, the missi g piece, a hole
That eats the heart of every li e I form.
How ca I speak of wi ter's icy grip,
Or mea i g, truth, or hope, or a ythi g more,
Whe ' ' is hidde , locked away from me?
The struggle is real, the frustratio  kee .

Now, two things are happening here:
  the 'n' key on my computer has stuck
  thus, I'm stop-starting, pasting each
  instance of 'n' into words which is, as you
  might imagine, somewhat trying

In addition to which an impending sickness
Overwhelms me, lending a powerful urge to sleep

One might say... [clears throat]
The night presses down like a velvet tomb [coughs]
And shadows dance in sempiternal gloom [expires]