Mar 2017
I can't think of anything, once again
The bottleneck in my brain dilutes every scheme
I close the book, then count to ten
The idea slips off the precipice and I could scream
The bottleneck in my brain dilutes every scheme
I close the book, then count to ten
The idea slips off the precipice and I could scream
A poem about writing a poem. In quatrain stanza form, with an "a b a b" rhyme pattern.
