As I stared out the wooden window wishing 
I wasn't sitting here, but thinking the words 
To paint on this page, I create brand new worlds
That the teachers will totally dig relishing. 

But you know sometimes you notice that one line
Is out of place, then the paragraph, then the whole
As the sweat beads decorate my forehead folds
I know I'll draw a line, and toss one into the bowl. 

Despair decorates mistakes beautifully, but
I know muses loiter in strange places, like deep
Sea fish hanging their lanterns in a weird jut. 
I reach in, and grab one before off it leaps. 

(c) nyonglema