I sit at my desk,
My brain being stressed,
As I think of a topic to write.

I write a few lines,
I say “That doesn’t rhyme”
I crumple it up and throw it away.

The due dates next week,
I think and I think,
But all I can think of is nothing.

The white paper’s glare,
It stares and it stares,
At my face while I think of a poem.

I sit a my desk,
My brain being stressed,
I pick up my pen and begin to write.

I start to write,
What has happened tonight,
A Topicless Poem I wrote.

-Jeremy Patak