Boredom by Ian Copestick

These dark, boring miserable nights
The ground covered in ice and snow
Leave you with nothing to do with your life
And  nowhere that you can go

Even if you had got any money, There's nowhere to spend it
Tonight's so dull, it's not funny
I wish the clock's hands would turn to end it

Just another nowhere night
In another nowhere town
If I had a match to set it alight
I'd burn the whole fucker down

Ian Lewis Copestick is a 46 year old writer (I prefer that term to poet ) from Stoke on Trent, England. I spend most of my life sitting,  thinking then sometimes writing. I have been published in Anti Heroin Chic, the Dope Fiend Daily, Outlaw Poetry, Synchronized Chaos, the Rye Whiskey Review, Medusa's Kitchen and Horror Sleaze Trash.