Abstruse Poem by Zoe Wyant

So, it's nothing exciting,
the reason why I'm writing,
but what else do you suppose i do?

A summer's Thursday evening,
instead of staring at the ceiling,
I grabbed my journal thinking 'this should do.'

So I'm lying in my bed
with nothing running through my head,
what to write? I haven't got a clue.

So I'm taking up my time
writing only to rhyme
but a reason for this poem is abstruse

So, though its not exciting,
the reason why I'm writing,
I managed to entertain myself for a few.