Boredom Poem by angelica dela cruz

Wasting paper, straining ink;
I see spots each time I blink.
I see legs and leather shoes;
I know they'll walk where they choose.

Syllables, words, and quiet babble;
Slip through my small music bubble.
Even through my wired lens,
Nothing really makes much sense.

I want quiet, simply put;
Kinda hard when construction's afoot.
Rock- paper- scissors'll have its way,
I'd like to get rid of this today.