They say I can write, perhaps they are right,
But I haven’t seen signs of it yet.
I sit with a page, get into a rage,
For it seems the words I can’t get!
I know what to say, but can’t find the way
Of making up things that will rhyme.
So I sit here for hours, my blood pressure towers,
All I’m doing is wasting my time!
But I’ll struggle on, ‘til my time be all gone,
I’ll be blowed if I’ll let this beat me.
What rhymes with contentment? Now I feel resentment,
And frustration just won’t let me be!
Still I wrack my brain, ‘tis really a strain,
And my feelings I just can’t express.
Yet, wait, maybe tomorrow, or the day that will follow,
Will show me a way to success!
So I scribble away, in the hope that one day,
Pure genius I just might find.
And then if I’m lucky, go on being plucky,
I might write a verse of some kind!
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