Bored... Oh So Bored

I'm sitting here, on my bed.
The light is very dim.
Music plays around my head,
As I write this little poem.

Reading this, will waste your life.
No stories of love, or conquering evil,
There are no stories of pain, no stories of strife.
Just a story of boredom, and nothing special.

Maybe time will hurry by, as I write.
Sweeping me off to the next thing...
Or maybe cows will fly.
That makes more sense to me.

Will you laugh? Will you cry?
Will anger flare up in you?
Will this poem cause someone to die?
It might... You may die of boredom.

Being bored is very boring.
Nothing really happens.
I guess that's what it's for:
To call nothing something.

Now that I've finished typing this word,
I guess I'll go eat.
Because I eat when I'm bored,
And I don't gain weight!

~I was super bored. Did you get that? =P ~

– Thomas Brooks ©