I have no idea about what to write.

My body doesn’t function properly at night.

My eyes feel heavy and tired

And if this is how my brain works, I think it should be fired.

 

I could just curl up and sleep.

But then I won’t complete the marathon and that will make me weep.

It’s 10 minutes past half past twelve

And I’m still sitting here feeling sorry for myself.

 

Only, like, a few words on the page.

This frustrates me and fills me with rage.

I’m literally scribbling anything that comes to mind.

Because time is something tough to find.

 

I think I’m falling asleep with my eyes open

While trying to write words that I feel should be spoken.

 

So, yeah, this poem is going to turn out terrible.

But, hopefully, it will be slightly bearable.

And I apologize if it doesn’t make sense

But right now I’m not living in the present tense.

 

My brain has turned into foam

Just from writing this poem.

 

Oh, and did I mention that my legs are experiencing severe cramps?

Well that’s all for this hour, champs!