I was going to write a poem
I tried to work it out
I couldn't think of anything
No epiphany to write about

I was going to make a rhyme
and make it something deep
I couldn't find the inspiration
Perhaps I should just sleep

I thought about a haiku
or maybe a limerick, I'd jot
No syllables or jokes
not one thing have I got

Maybe I'll write a song
I think quietly to myself
Now I have no music
and dust on my brain's shelf

I thought I had some rhythm
It's usually easy for me to write
Instead I sit here befuddled
and my neck is getting tight

I just know that if I leave it
the thoughts will come around
but of course I'll have no pen
or paper to put it down

I guess there'll be no poem
no silly rhymes to read
You're stuck, instead, with nonsense
And the hope that your eyes didn't bleed.