This write, has me looking for more topics,
I feel the box, stuck in, inside wrong lines,
Wrong lines, right lines, why must I try to fit,
It is not fine, I am all out of time...
Words and words to make me feel so crazy,
I keep on the grind to get an idea,
Do I not get this or am I lazy?
Building this dumb poem, is this ikea?
Poems have some meter but this is top,
keys to the board, pen to this damn paper,
Trying to write just makes me want to stop,
but soon I will need an undertaker,
For if truly I must, prevail I will,
This dumb poem pattern has now been filled.