As I sit here I hopelessly wonder why boredom exists,
Why, that when you have nothing to do we use this word, Boredom,
There’s nothing on TV except a load of rubbish,
My internet isn’t working,
And my book is upstairs, though I can’t be bothered to get up and get it,
I have a T.V in my room, but I forgot my DVDs,
I have an ipod, but I can’t be bothered to go and get it,
I have loads of games but they’re upstairs too,
I could sleep, but my dad will send me to bed early,
What can I do, I’m bored,
And there’s nothing I can do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem