Even though it makes your head sore
Write Something, we'll grade you fair
That is what you're aiming for
Sitting on the bed, what are you waiting for
The glaring white to fill up
Even though it makes your head sore
Pacing the room, thinking some more
The page finally filling up
That is what you're aiming for
They sate at you, as they did before
Those cats laying there in boredom
Even though it makes your head sore
Re-writing over again, your hand sore
Making progress after endless staring
That is what you're aiming for
Writing a villanelle, what a chore
To hand in tomorrow for you to explore
Even though it makes your head sore
That is what you're aiming for
