A girl lays in bed staring at the ceiling
She hopes something exciting will happen so she waits
Minutes past and she is still bored
What can she do?
Write a book?
Play a game?
Draw?
Watch tv?
How could she do these things when there’s nothing good on tv,
Nothing to draw
And she has writer’s block.
All she could do was stare at the plain ceiling
And imagine vivid imagery of scenarios
That would never come true
The girl was bored to death as she laid still and unmoving with a bored expression and dull eyes.
She would never find something fun
All she could do was wait
YOU ARE READING
my poems
Poetrythis is just for people who like poetry or poems in general. they were mostly vent poems but eventually they became more than vent poems. they let me express myself in a way that drawing couldn't.
