Every time I start a rhyme
I sit and stew, without a clue
Of what I want to say to you
It's a shame that I cannot blame
This writer's block of shock
On a gushy, brainy keyless lock
I look around and to the ground
From my bed, I scratch my head
The runes at my wits must be dead
"Think! Think!" I say and blink
"Gotta be a thought I've fought
That may just like to be caught"
It makes me grieve as I perceive
The reason for my adroit treason
The deficiency of verbal season
I embark to look through books
Frantic search of a brew so new
Only to find a mangled haiku
Up my hands must go, I bellow
Acuity must flux with this crux
Leaving all design to dim clucks
I quit
Rhyme inspired by nothing at all
And by Jason Mraz "Wordplay"
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