Journal of a Spaced-Out Brain -poetry-

Not really

I tried to write a poem,
That had no words or rhyme.
I sat there for hours,
'Til I ran out of time.

I tried to sing a song,
That didn't have a tune.
My mother said, "How nice,"
But others left the room.

I tried to drive a car,
That didn't have a wheel.
All I could do was sit,
And listen to it squeal.