oh, you poets know not....have you no patience?

[Thingum Bob Esq.]

Who are you, nobody?
A brain in a body
Straining to write
Anything, a fright
To read, nothing.
It comes without thinking
Why think of nothing?
If it's work, then
It is a sad waste
Of ink. Natural writing
Appears from nowhere.
What foolish promts do
You need, when nature
Provide arts of seed.