Shakespeare Eat Your Heart Out

Be their nothing today I wish to share
I still engage my mind to think and write,
Maybe my work is nothing to compare,
But still I sit and type to you this night.

My mind is blank an endless expansion,
A pale white canvas waiting for a mark,
An empty stage for my soul to dance on
It shows a reluctance to disembark.

Of Shakespeare's work I draw inspiration
An iambic pentameter my goal,
And though I sit here in desperation
The syllable count I aim to control.

The rules of this style are to demanding
I fear I have failed in my one attempt,
And while my sanity remains standing
I gracefully withdraw with your consent.