I get myself in quite a state,
Desperate to concentrate...
The ending lines - they will not come.
My fingers twitch. My head is numb.
I look again - just five percent
I paused and half the battery went
Or so it seems! But here's the test;
In five percent can I write the rest?
Now normally it's likely 'yes'
But FOUR percent makes chances less.
I fidget, slump with head in hands
And wonder who here understands.
Just two more lines! But Muse has quit.
I've started one, but can't end it...
I try rhymes starting with each letter key...
But look! The bloody thing's on three!
Three percent and desperation...
Sweaty, writing constipation.
It's jumbled, dull - I just delete it
Will battery die before I complete it?
Two percent and rage sets in:
The battery's evil - I have to win.
And idea comes - it's good! It's witty!
My smug, sneering features - not very pretty.
One percent now, but I'm almost blasé.
I know what I'm writing- it will be ok.
One word to go and my mate phones - the prat!!
I blank him to finish it - but the phone has run fl-
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