I can’t write a poem today.

They’re too much work;

Too much to think about;

Too hard to come up with.

Poetry, why must you be so complicated?

Or, maybe I’m just being lazy like my sister.

Maybe I’m just worn out like old people.

Poetry, you’re strong. Can you give me some of your strength?

I think I’m going to fall like London Bridge soon.

I don’t know what else to do.

Everything I try to think of hurts my head.

Maybe I just don’t feel like doing any work.

Long days come, then they leave,

And I realize nothing is complete.

There are holes and leaks,

And problems to be solved;

But still, I cannot think.