His brain was too broken, or worse
As he picked up his paper and pen
Trying to craft some lines of verse
But crossing out words once again
The picture he tried to impart
Kept changing inside of his mind
He tried to paraphrase Descartes
‘I can think, therefore I can find’
With that he picked words to pursue
The words hid themselves out of sight
And with deadlines long overdue
He sat down to fight the good fight
So what did the author create?
For that we will just have to wait.