Boredom...

Boredom creeps in, slow and sly,

Like clouds that crawl across the sky.

It is that thing, which causes no delight,

Just ticking clocks from day to night.

I am  bored, ignored, brain feels stored,

Inside a box, that's tightly floored.

Yawn, sleep, at noon or dawn

Just waiting for some thrill to swoon.

I made a joke to make me grin,

Then, laughed alone with no chin.

But, maybe boredom is the key,

To weird and wild creativity.