March 15, 2010
More by this author
It’s hard to write a sonnet
A blank piece of paper
With nothing to write on it
My options are becoming tapered
My ideas are disappearing
My mind starts to pout
And soon, I am panicking
Because time will run out
This entire concept is new
I don’t know how to begin
In my head, no thoughts go through
Because of this racket and din
There are just too many rhymes
To do at this time.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback