There's nothing to do. There. I said it. At least finally someone did. The house is empty. The books have all been read. The games have all been played. Now I'm so bored I'm gonna end up dead. Like, all I have to do is write [crap] poems. It's so exciting! Don't you agree?
Hi. My name is Otto. Look! A squirrel. I should chase it, Too bad I'm inside a fence. I'm hungry. When's dinner? Yay! We're getting in the car! Are we going to the park? Wait! Don't leave me! Why're you closing the door? I want to come! Let me out! Noooo they're driving away I'm all alone. for 5 minutes YES! They're finally home! After what feels like 50 hours! It took you long enough.
Why do I exist? Sometimes I ponder this As I stress, about grades, About everything. Sometimes, though, I know that I'm really meant to be and satisfaction overtakes stress. As I write this poem, I know I belong In this world, in my place in life.