Writer’s Block

There once lived a poet called Mediocrity
He hath not talent worth two dimes
But life had provided him plenty of stories
Stories that he’d convert into rhymes

He observed well, this sleuth of a man
Occurrences around were duly noted
And when these occurrences in poetry ran
On his work the whole world doted

But Fate will not be one’s friend forever
Six billion at once vie for her love
She is generous at heart, Fate, our mother
But jealous is the Lord up above

Life introduced him to Monotony
Events of any interest dried away
His river of creativity lay empty
And the dam of Originality held sway


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