I thought I was talented,
Writing about vampires as much as I did.
In fact, I thought I could write poetry
About anything at all.
(It doesn’t even have to rhyme, anymore-
God bless free verse)
But I was wrong.
Because while sitting at my desk,
Searching for inspiration,
My eyes lighted on a stapler.
I tried valiantly,
Hoping for even a verse,
But I found none
Within me.
Staplers are purely practical,
Likely prosaical,
But certainly not at all poetical.
A Stapler
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