Right now, this moment, I find myself asking, "Why?
Why did my well of wonderful words run dry?"
Probably running around too much, running myself ragged -
So, it becomes a chore of Epimetheus, pulling thoughts jagged...
Fail:
I'm Unsure of the Greek boulder-pushing guy,
And I'm Forcing the second rhyme.
I'm not even checking syllable counts,
Let alone, their stress patterns.
Stressed indeed -
A full plate before me,
Yet so little money
To get feed?
Fail again?
Beating ourselves up over stuff contrite,
Leads to mental blocks when we try to write -
Still, we win?
I see an insanely busy week ahead...
Maybe I could write much much more,
Yet I must also find my way to my bed.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment