Still Poetry Month, but I've nothing to say.
Over half a month left, it's just the twelfth day.
And still you keep reading, I don't know why.
To say I'm inspired would just be a lie.
Over me hangs a dark cloud of of rhyme,
But for all I'm hearing, it could be just mime.
Thoughts start to tangle, my brain seems to tighten
But there is nothing poetical here to enlighten.
Maybe tomorrow.
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