A throwaway verse of a pointless poem,
Don't know why I write it, don't know where it's going,
But no one else will know or see
This poor excuse for poetry.

A meaningless line of a stupid song,
With the rhyming contrived and the meter all wrong,
The songwriter's safety is surely assured
When the singer is silent and the song is not heard.

An opaque passage in some worthless prose,
There were ideas behind it but not one of them shows.
But why question the quality of the words that were written
When the readers are absent and the writing is hidden.

One hour wasted moving words up and down,
To fit in some meaning to never-heard sounds.
All this just to grease the hands of the clock?
Perhaps next time around, I'll go for a walk.