I sat down to write a poem today
but didn't know what to do.
My head was deviod of all ideas
I just didn't have a clue.

All right, I thought, lets get to work
and write something to make me fulfilled.
But the crap I wrote caused more pain
than having my teeth drilled.

I thought I'd write about my day
and all the things that I've done.
But my whole day consisted
of sitting on my bum.

I thought I'd spice it up a bit
but between me and you.
I've gone so long without sex
I've forgotten what to do.

I decided to make something up
make myself seem big and tough.
I won't mention I leave the pub
if the big boys look too rough.

I thought I'd create myself some friends
pretend how many I have got.
But I decided they hate me too
so you can keep that bloody lot.

I could always write about my pet
a black cat that I call Fred.
But who wants to read a poem
about a cat that shits on my bed?

I hope I'm back on track quite soon
but I won't sit and stew.
I couldn't think of a poem to write
so this will have to do.