• Once, I was bored.
    Nothing to do
    Nothing
    Nothing
    I sat, pitying myself and my ultimate boredom.
    Then I thought to write this poem.
    This poem has no point
    Not to entertain
    Not to move
    Not to explain.
    Just a poem,
    To waste away the time.
    And now, I am sad,
    Because this poem,
    This poem about nothing
    Nothing
    Nothing
    is over.
    What shall I do now?