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There are so many things I could do
instead of work.
I could read the posters,
inspect my fingernails,
overhear conversations.
I could think about homework,
plan out what to do when,
or think of nothing.
I could eat,
or sleep,
or draw.
I'd really rather be drawing.
Because that is fun.
And this, at the moment, is not.
That much.
So, a compromise:
I shall write about
not wanting to write.
So there.
Nyah.
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