Poetic Boredom

kinda nonsense... i know

Bored

I am bored,
Bored half to death
I release another
Frustrated breath

I am getting impatient
I have nothing to do
If you are reading this
You're probably bored too

Pace, pace
Stop, turn
Patience I have
Yet to learn

Pace, pace
Stop, think
What should I do,
Doing nothing stinks

What can I do
Please help me
I might as well
Go write some poetry


Bored... Oh So Bored

I'm sitting here, on my bed.
The light is very dim.
Music plays around my head,
As I write this little poem.

Reading this, will waste your life.
No stories of love, or conquering evil,
There are no stories of pain, no stories of strife.
Just a story of boredom, and nothing special.

Maybe time will hurry by, as I write.
Sweeping me off to the next thing...
Or maybe cows will fly.
That makes more sense to me.

Will you laugh? Will you cry?
Will anger flare up in you?
Will this poem cause someone to die?
It might... You may die of boredom.

Being bored is very boring.
Nothing really happens.
I guess that's what it's for:
To call nothing something.

Now that I've finished typing this word,
I guess I'll go eat.
Because I eat when I'm bored,
And I don't gain weight!