Boredom slowly creeps upon me,

Like a fog on top a hill.

My eyes start glazing over,

My brain is standing still.

I’m trying to take notice,

Of the message being said,

But it all just sounds like noise to me,

Facts won’t stay in my head.

If only I could listen,

For just a minute more,

Yet concentration eludes me,

I’m thinking of the door.

I can see the mouth is moving,

Yet I can’t hear the voice.

It just keeps droning on and on,

About a subject of its choice.

My brain has gone and left me,

And I’m sitting on my own,

With nothing but my thoughts and a pen,

And the voices waffling drone

This poem is about: 
Our world


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