Distractions
Location
Around this time, at ten o’ clock,
I have some raging writer’s block.
I can’t write on a Saturday
I wish I could go out to play.
The TV was turned up too loud.
This is a day I don’t feel proud.
I always write of dinosaurs.
To write of more would be a bore.
So much to do on this weekend.
In hours, I’m visiting my friend.
There’s also this one Steampunk fest.
I really should be getting rest.
What’s the point of all this hard work?
Would it be all right if I shirk?
Can’t pull off poetic actions
With these meddling distractions.