I have twenty-four hours.
No, not even that.
This deadline is an anvil
And I’m about to go splat.

I had a good idea
But it’s like the bard said.
My scheme’s gone askew
So now this mouse is dead.

This assignment is like Everest
And I've no choice but to climb.
It would be so much easier if
It didn’t need to rhyme.

My sister isn’t helping
With her constant magpie chatter.
She claims she’s inspiration, not a pest
But I think that it’s the latter.
So maybe this isn’t exactly Dickenson.
It’s certainly no Bronte.
But if my poor poetry pleases
I think I can get an A.

I bet all of my friends are finished.
Man, they must be smug.
I should have worked all weekend
But my Kindle’s like a drug.

My defenses are slowly weakening.
This is a battle I will lose.
Oh Caliope, why have you forsaken me?
You stupid fickle muse.

I guess there is a lesson here.
Procrastination is a sin.
Wait this is line thirty one,
Ha ha writer’s block, I win!