Sitting at home writing writing WRITING and the words dont flow
I sit while this muse doesn’t show.
I want to be unique I want to be original.
make this poem biblical.


I think in iambic.
And still the sirens in my skull stay silent of their sweet symphonies.
Trying to use figurative language,
Like a new born baby trying to use its new legs.
Putting my brain under an incubater,
Trying to force hatch ideas like eggs


Sitting in my room listening to slam
about to slam my head on the ground
bam bam bam!
Maybe write about corrupt uncle sam?
Try to be a shooting star and break the mold

But mold is gross
So I stay inside and remain quiet
And pretend that one day my slam might start a riot
Could I start a rebellion
And while fighting deppresion,
Could fight this opression,
of not being able to write this poem.