This was just a short poem I got out of my bored mind.
Mind-numbing, waste of time or non-event
That’s what others call it.
Some take it as their creative part
Like what I am doing right now.
Boredom, such a shallow word
But why can’t we figure it out.
When and how will it strike
Nobody knows if they should act.
Now that it strikes me,
I want to do something that I can’t explain.
All I know is I’m in front of the computer
Thinking that I am a good writer.
Write, write and write
Or should I say type, type and type
That is all i want to do
Even though there’s nothing to pursue.
Words don’t come out easily on me.
Seriously, I don’t know what I am writing now.
It feels like it’s out of the topic
But still, I want to continue it.
Am I already experiencing it?
That boredom does kill?
Maybe it is
But can’t I prevent it?
Maybe this will be the last part
Does this makes any sense to you guys?
And I don’t think these words come out of my heart
Because reading it makes me think it’s a crap!