When All That’s Left is Rhyme

when all thats left is rhyme

My head is empty like a shell

There is no water in this well

A head that creates copious copy for its work

Is at this moment quiet and inert

 

I sit here surrounded by the fog

Of my sleeping, dreaming, farting dog

I’m sure this isn’t what prevents

My mind from creating it’s usual content

 

All I have within my mind

Are words that that seem to end in rhyme

Is this now to be my fate

To sit here in this rhyming state

 

How long will this inspiration last

Perhaps it’s already ended…

 

 

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