Ruben fails Poetry 101
Thoughts
I'm sitting at my desk,
It's almost 1 AM;
My pillow is wondering,
Where I am.
The room lights are off,
As dark as an attic;
I'm wearing headphones,
Listening to static.
I could push off to bed,
And the computer off switch;
Have to get up early tomorrow,
But insomnia is a bitch.
So for now I'll sit,
And wait till I doze;
Counting syllables is too boring,
When you're writing such crappy prose.
I could try to enjoy life,
Relax and be gay;
But really what's the point,
Anyway?
