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.

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