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The walls of my bedroom reflect my sadness. Who painted them blue, I wonder? They just stand here with nothing to do. I am alone with these four walls every night. I kneel down and pray to the Lord.
Words rattle inside my head, and remain unsaid. Why can't I seem to get them out? It's as though my brain is having a drought. I sit and ponder as what to say. Such silence from my inner muse, brings such dismay.
Time drags on Hours feel like days I know I need this class For my major For my future To stay in Hong Kong But it’s so boring
Digger sleeps in comfy chair. Mom is still at work. Street light shines through the window.
Feeling bored Much of my life has been this feeling Of being bored Something with a new key
I love you Yes, I love you immensely but the inevitable is inevitable Everyone gets bored. People like you and me, get bored so easily. The most exciting people to me
Here's a poem- Short and sweet. I want a soda. Do you agree? Which one shall it be? Coke... or Pepsi?
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,
Education Boredom slowly creeps upon me, Like a fog on top a hill. My eyes start glazing over,
I should be doing my work I have an essay due in 12 minutes Yet I’m writing this A poem I guess? I don’t really know Just staring at the crack on the ceiling Not knowing what to write
Two years stuck in the same chair, On the same computer, On the same website. Two years speaking to the same people, To the sane adults, To my insane self. Two years of homeschooling,
King Arthur I use to imagine being a warrior whose being was entirely engulfed. With a silver knights’ suit like King Arthur,
I've realized it's really hard to write without having someone in your mindbecause, in your thoughts, they spend most of their time.
Problems Modern questions Things for solving Some quandaries for unwinding Queries Puzzles Of everything
A cat, still very wild, thirsts in a desert. An island in a sea of sand, an ethereal woman, too kind, a thirst is quenched, and past lives remembered. The cat perches on a lap, content for a decade.
I hate being bored, It’s just so boring. Do you know what I mean? Doubt it, Let me show you. You’re sick of games,
Bloody Red, Forbidding Black Lying on the white The King, he frowns The Queen, she cries The Ace and Jack are grim Hostile Frozen Faces glare They take, they grab, they multiply
my eyes stretch the horizon... the cigarette burns quicker as I drag the smoke deeper in my lungs I ponder the events of this week my wanderings, where are you?
The wind pushes against my window as if it’s aching to get inside
You say you hate yo
I know you are speaking, but I am not listening.
The lesson sounds like one long "ohm",
Boredom is killing us. It makes us reckless. Veronica Russell
When you're bored, You intentionally decide that everything's a chore You whore out your vitality to inanity, eventually causing insanity Your vanity? Give up- it vanished into apathy
That's a clock. Of course and it always is a clock and neither those plain numbers nor these gravels care about a crash or a bag filled with sweaters, scarves, a novel, cards.
Sometimes I wonder
Same alarm clock every morning. Same old bed in the same house. Same old church around the corner. Same old games of cat and mouse.
Chemical reactions determine how I shape my words on this page. Internal flickers and quarks determine how many times I blink while processing my thoughts.
I sit in the same spot Everyday as time flies by.
Boredom is friction. If I could change anything... I would change people's motivation. Boredom cannot magically disappear. But magic motivation makes boredom melt.
I sit and I stare intense sunlight fires through the slits of my squinted lids Like blinds I shutter out the most of it, and trickling down are little specks of dust Closer I look
It’s boring, it’s all boring. That’s what I tell myself. Then I remember a quote from a source I never cared to research that says Only boring people get bored A quaint platitude for the
It's a Wednesday in November And I'm struggling to keep my eyes open I must look a mess My eyes are droopy And my hair is unbrushed I'll admit, I didn't try at all this morning
Alas! morning has come upon us. upon us, has for us to go to school. Alas, we await for the our carriage to come. Alas! we arrive, dreading the stream of boredom to come
Everyone leaves, for what reason I have no clue. I always think it's because of something I do. Maybe I try too hard or don't try hard enough. I can be so close or so cold
Aggress! Aggress! There is one place A place I see A place I always end up I am not a child or a house wife I am a woman from the rib perhaps Of goddess divine for sure
It’s 1:15 in the AM. The family’s asleep, and Mindless Self Indulgence is humming in the background.
Sometimes I can yet Just can't help to address That which I want to do yet don't; My mind a blank slate Fresh from the memories of before; It is truly these thoughts that prove That I'm just bored.
Sleeping in can have its Pro's or like friends, it can be a foe. Having nothing to do can be gruesome. No friends to hang out with, no boyfriend to call, no side-kick to hang out with at the mall.
Hot street and my soles are melting Not a soul in sight and what a sigh of relief as my feet are on fire A stroll across the sun would be nice today.
1. at the bus stop with twisted tobacco at my feet I watch as drivers pass, chew gum, with their radios low enough to miss my ears.
Begin wake up at five then take a drive flip a switch and try not to bitch fill the cups with ice then try to smile and be nice take the tips of quarters and dimes
I care to sidle along Numerous instances Of lull and displeasure, To more fertile grounds Beaming with vitality And sweet memories- Nectar so impassioned As to arouse my bones,