So while I'm waiting for the bath to run,
I'll sit outside with my laptop and write
Just typing out my little words for fun
To see if any of my thoughts take flight.
It happens often, once a day in fact,
Or sometimes more when the weekend is here,
Or if I feel my soul's under attack
Or when my heart is filled with doubt and fear.
So sonnet three-five-three will be like this,
I'm going to be month ahead aren't I?
It's like each one's been lost in the abyss
I wonder if I'll keep on till I die?
It seems so easy that at times I laugh,
Though now I'd rather be sat in the bath.
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