Murky grey skies, a plane flew by,
Perched, a sparrow came to say hi.

Stale air, a breath of smog,
Thoughts itching, like a flea ridden dog.

The allure of a well written line, a shaky bridge for those unfocused thoughts,
Even here, even now, there’s a need to put it down before it rots.

I have an idea… sort of… kinda?
If only my mind isn’t like a Mardi Gras.

Riot, fancy, please let me draw it out,
Crows, oh just shut it you screaming lout!

A line or two, a vision it makes,
At least there’s that to let bake.

Dang this, bugger it, I call it a day,
It’s not happening, what else can I say?


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