Poem Of The Day #55
Busy road constructions angry and loud; jackhammers scream the midnight hour, Heavy machinery are nonstop whirring, as if complaining, "How can you sleep when I'm working?" Strained nerves can't calm down-- better get up and write something. But I don't have anything to write about. This topic is too dry, too pale; that plot is equally dull. Nothing works at this nocturnal hour. Too critical to be creative; too rambling to stay crispy clear. Just read a book, forget the whole thing.