I thought that if I settled down,
My laptop on my knees,
Glass of Pinot in my hand,
Fingers on the keys...
Silly, I was foolish, then,
To think is get it done,
Staring at the too-bright screen,
The lines just seemed to run.
I wrote but one short title,
And then got writers' block,
Plugged my iPod on the station,
Set it on its dock.
I tried for inspiration then:
Pop. Then jazz. Then rap,
Classical and Indie Rock,
But my fingers wouldn't tap!
A measly little sentence please?!
A single lit'rate word?!
Is this notion stupid, then?
To write? Is it absurd.
The crux is this, unfortunately,
This essay's due tomorrow,
I feel that I'll be down tonight...
Just drowning in my sorrow!
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