This is a poem
And it won't rhyme
I'm fine with it
Gonna take my own sweet time
To write all the upcoming posts
Because I've been trying to coast
There's no rule, there's no reason
I feel abound in my own prison
Of my expectations high and mighty
Beset by my talent,
Low and crusty.
It's a sick sick world
I find myself in
No way out without losin'.
Don't wanna give up, for this is my life
But what is life, if full of care
I have no time to...flyff.
It's been rough, I tell you this
And the fear grows, every single day that I miss
The posts and the stories and the essays
For which there's no content, it's all messies
I want provocation, I want prezzies?
Hyaa hyaa hyaa, that's all I got
I cannot write anymore
But I cannot stop.
So this is where we'll be at
Writing nonstop till I fall flat.
Toodles.
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