Talentless scribes with wanting evades,
Thoughts just dying to run out and escape.
Two pens, one paper, and a typewriter too,
Lost with an exact idea of what to do.
A waste of never ending invisible print,
So useless, so meaningless makes it impossible for anyone to give a perpetuous glint.
Hoping for better, desiderate of a full page.
Only thing missing is the part that makes makes sense.
One day there'll be improvement,
One day there will be words.
That day is the end to the curse of no words.
