It's so boring
That I'm thinking
Of taking my words
And just rewording
It's such a bore
That I think I'll
Empty my drawers
Just to see an empty drawer
I'm so bored
That I guess I'll rattle
The sleep of memory
See what I can afford
Summer's reward
Is to recalculate all
That' been given
Called a living
Perched where I should've soared
Turned dark
That's the price of boredom
Some carve wood
Others carve stardom
Others should
Split hairs of an old spark
But now I turn a life
Of tedious
Into a long run of reach
That stretches towards
The long awaited beach
Content to be curious
Aren't you bored
It's all the same?
Aren't you sore
You found no one else to blame?
Are you sure
Of your game's aim?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem