I\'m in the corner writing shit.
Papers all around where I sit.
Ashtrays full, another smoke lit.
Moved the needle an inch and a bit.
Having thoughts I should just quit.
Trying to create a poem and commit.
Hard to find the words that will fit.
Wanting to find where I put my wit.
Getting tired, time to just submit.
Writing shit,
I sit,
smoke lit.
In a bit,
just quit,
and commit.
Will fit,
my wit,
just submit.
This
Is
It