Beginning's tough when there's nothing to say;
And, once begun, you have to follow through.
But you promised you would write one every day
And Goddammit, that's what you're going to do.
One stanza down--see? That wasn't so tough.
Almost halfway through, by my reckoning.
Pretty soon you'll have it written well enough
And you can go and do some other thing.
Like read a book, or have another beer,
Or both--why not? You've earned it, after all--
Creating out of nothing. It's quite clear
A reward is in order, before last call.
Nothing comes out of nothing, Shakespeare said.
This sonnet proves him wrong. Besides, he's dead.
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