Boredom is an ipod.

Nothing to do,

nothing to see.

Laying in bed watching

the clock tick away.

Every evening I slip

into my bed.

Bored out of my mind.

Searching for something, anything.

Then I remember the little box.

The little box I got as a gift.

I use it to pass the time.

Replaying and replaying the same ten songs.

I know them word for word,

yet I am still bored.

Boredom is an ipod.

Never ending and

like a spiral.

Maybe I will buy

something new.

Maybe that will keep my attention.

I just toss things out for

newer, better ones.

I can only hope someone doesn't

name me boredom

and tosses me away.