I know not how to rhyme well,
I prefer writing in individual lines,
Rhyming is too much commitment,
And I grew to be an emotionless bug.
Like Gregor Samsa I feel when Kafka made me into a cockroach,
I found it so hard to get out of bed, it took fighting to accomplish simple tasks throughout the day though.
But I still manage to metaphorically succeed at what I've been doing,
Which is doing nothing and waiting for the dawn to come with no blemish,
So I may take a couple more hours before it's too soon,
To be useless and wonderful while being such a fool.
