Here I am, writing.
Here I am, writing this poem, cause there is nothing better to do;
So I'll seize the little time I have and pen down a couple words for you.
My pencil trudging on tirelessly, my eraser worn down to the ferrule;
Nothing else do I need, a pencil is my only tool.
Pieces of paper sprawled out on the floor, old ideas from the past;
But those thoughts that I wrote down were bound not to last.
Somehow I feel writing will fill some gap in my heart;
Because I always loved poetry, right from the start.
But here I am, writing this poem, to calm the monster inside of me;
So that it may not escape, and consume myself and thee...