This is it

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​