"Please don't go crazy if I tell you the truth."

I listened to several songs for inspiration
And I tried staring straight into space.
I waited for a bolt of lightning to singe my hair and burn my face
And electrocute my brain into a state of poetic frenzy
But you see,
The sky does not have potential enough.
How do they do it, the ones who do it, write songs about people, just like that?
I have a muse far greater than them, and yet I'm stuck here
Rambling.
As I was saying-
I could try to rhyme the way I tried
Back when I was seven, in school, and far too zealous, I tried everything
Even ice-cream with ketchup,
So I wrote a poem for class
About my cat
Who was fat
He ate rats
Slept on a mat
In a class of thirty, twenty-two of us seemed to own twenty-two identical imaginary
Cats
Who were Fat
Ate Rats
Slept on a Mat.
So evidently, I'm not the next Plath.
I could write you a song, a song with no instruments but with incoherence
Because my ineptitude also extends to musical instruments.
But if you were a song,
You'd be an instrumental track
And what I'm getting at here might solve my poetic predicament too.
Hell.
You're just too good for words.

Post Title-"How to Be Dead", Snow Patrol, for the American Pie soundtrack.