Will I ever be done
Writing low effort poem
Another one, and another one
And another one
Till these pages are filled
With this fool's gold
And I am old?
Does any one
Enjoy the poe-yam
Or is it just me
Barfing out
What must be
the worst ever
'poetry'?
They come easy
fill up the page
like a cheap meal
one buys on
a working man's wage
it doesn't nurture
it doesn't care
all it matters is
the 'post count' affair.
Empty calories and empty mind,
just don't want to be left behind
so full of delusion, so little hope
what is there even, to fully cope?
Cool nights, and chilly morning
A total lack of discipline,
Now that's a major warning
Full of dreams of a different land
Let's get real though, will things really change,
is this really the magic wand?
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