Blank

Waiting in the hall,

For class to begin,

Staring at the wall,

Then shoes, then shin.

Got nothing to do,

So decided to write.

Just burnt my throat,

With the coffee to my right.

Now my throat left burning,

With my tongue synged.

My minds not turning,

Into anything that could be lynched,

Into anything resembling,

A full sentence,

So I'll leave this fledgling,

Poem with no resemblance,

Of the skills,

That I have,

To wield at my will,

If you not feeling it to bad.