I didn't know what to write about today,
so I'll blog you a poem instead.
Meaning happy, of course, I am not.
Quick, before this gets angsty and existential,
Someone stab me with a pencil.
I've messed up the ABA rhyme scheme.
Or are things not as they seem?
I could continue like this until the end of time.
Just as long as the lines rhyme.
Did you know that Dr. Seuss
's name was meant as a rhyme for "rejoice"?
Now you do.
My stanzas are uneven,
The topics waxing pointless,
But hopefully you've lol'd a bit
As I give up and end in free verse.
Regardless of the questionable rhyming, all facts outlined in the above poem are true. It's 11:36 on a Saturday and I'm procrastinating on Government homework, which, in addition to the portion I'm procrastinating on, also involves the viewing of the Sunday morning news, which necessitates my waking up before ten in the morning, and so within reason I should be going to bed soon. I won't, though, because this has become how I roll given any free time in the hours during which most sensible people would voluntarily choose to go to bed, because of the health benefits of adequate amounts of sleep. I voluntarily choose not to be sensible. Or I'm naturally senseless, but by declaring it as choice my senselessness has effectively been hidden a bit. Yay for illogic and run-on sentences!