When You Rest, You Rust.

I wish I had more time to write.
My schedule has become so tight.
Now it's ten o clock on a Friday night,
and nothing seems to be going right.

I haven't written a poem in forever.
Please, bare with me now, I think you better.
This next line has to be clever...
Is that even correct syntax? Whatever.

I don't even know what it is that you do.
Maybe you are just too good to be true.
You tickle me pink and then make me so blue.
My head or my heart, which one is true?

I guess this is a sadness my playlists could not cure.
I guess these obstacles are just too much to endure.
I guess this may seem just a little obscure.
But I guess I'm okay, Uh- huh. Yeah, sure.

I'll talk to you when my music next fails me.
It's getting late and I must get up early.
Time to curl up with my thoughts of uncertainty.
Until then, I hope you've enjoyed this poem of absurdity.