Wednesday Thursday were good days and without knowing
Friday just skipped past nothing too exciting
No outstanding good times or inspirational lightning
If only something amazing would start
It would certainly making it easier for my art
Instead of constantly struggling for subjects
Like arguing couples or postal defects
Starting to wonder, what’s the point of it all?
If every day I lack the power to recall
I’ve never really had much dedication
But I’ve put myself in this situation
A third of a year isn’t a whole book
But I get inspired as through the pages I look
I’ve written twenty four thousand words
In my life that is completely unheard
So now my book has purpose again
Need some more links to complete my chain
But so far it’s all falling into place
I’m learning quickly how to fill the space
We are getting close to being halfway
And as long as I write here everyday
By the end of the year I’ll have something to publish
Which, at the start of the year was a distant wish
And if I’m struggling to get the words right
I can always write about having nothing to write
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