26/30 - Finish Line

Twenty five poems and thirty days later,
I still don't know what to write,

So I sit down and write,
And pretty words come out,
At least some people call them pretty,

I look at them and I know,
I could do better,

They tell me,
That line was really good,
And I politely nod,

And then wonder why they aren't all that good,
Why I can't spit epiphanies on command,
So I keep writing,

Whenever a good turn of phrase hits me,
I slam it onto paper ASAP,
A lot less lately than it used to hit me,

Which leads me to how writing is like a muscle,
But in your brain,
You gotta keep using it,
Or else you only get a trickle,
Of the good stuff,

That's why I started this 30/30 thing,
And that's why with five and a half hours left,
I still intend to finish it.

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