Caved in thoughts run around the mind,
Beams escape through the Venetian blind.
At the corner, poised a deaf 6-string,
Music, melody, many thoughts does it bring.
Staring out into the blue gradient of the sky,
The Sun peeps from the clouds, perhaps shy.
The television blares from beneath,
I sit here,doing nothing, gritting my teeth.
This is a poem of void,
My creative side of the brain seems to be destroyed.
Which is why I am annoyed,
Now I know, why some authors remain unemployed.
This is poem is a diddly squat,
Because my blog seems to be as overwrought.
And now because I have a long train of thought.
This poem is nothing close to what it should have brought.
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