I don't know what to write.
I start to write what seems to be something great,
But, in the end, doesn't seem right.
The late nights I spend,
Trying to figure out what words to write down,
My brain forsakes my pen.
I now find myself distracted by an odd sound.
My brain is here and there,
It can't concentrate,
For it wants to go everywhere.
Maybe it's because it's late?
That has to be why I am unable to concentrate,
It must be.
I should sleep.
Goodnight.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 2:47 AM UTC
I don't know what to write.
I start to write what seems to be something great,
But, in the end, doesn't seem right.
The late nights I spend,
Trying to figure out what words to write down,
My brain forsakes my pen.
I now find myself distracted by an odd sound.
My brain is here and there,
It can't concentrate,
For it wants to go everywhere.
Maybe it's because it's late?
That has to be why I am unable to concentrate,
It must be.
I should sleep.
Goodnight.
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