The sound of the drip is driving me nuts.
But it's that sound that's keeping me awake.
I would love to collapse in by bed and sleep.
But I must remember what is at stake.
I must finish a job that's interminably there.
A string that hangs just out of reach of my hands.
I know that the night's almost gone but I can't.
Stop myself from drifting to some far away lands.
And just as I get to a happy place there,
the drip pulls be back to my bright little room
The sound of that hopelessly broken faucet
Just adds to the shadows, the cold, and the gloom.
My mind is uneven and all that I do
is hopelessly bent out of what it should be
My poetry's mangled my rhyming is rough
My eyes are all blurry and hearing's failing me.
I can hardly hear myself typing these words.
My vision is dull and my fingers are numb.
The darkness is closing in my little world.
My brain has powered down am I going dumb?
Oh wait. I've nearly been up a whole day.
Maybe I should try sleeping at night.
Maybe if I didn't procrastinate so much,
I would have some free time to see if mother was right.
I know that I should have been finished by six.
She does always tell me to get my stuff done.
Because if I get it done early enough,
I might even, may even get to have fun.
So maybe I'll even try that on the 'morrow.
For now I guess I'll be going to bed.
Forgive me for throwing you all of my problems.
You probably think I've had a knock on the head.
Anyway, well goodbye! It was such a nice chat.
Maybe we can do it again sometime?
I doubt you have even read up to here
of my uneven, rythm-less, bottomless, rhyme.