I'm laying here on my bed
With loads of things to do in my head

I could clear my table of the clutter
Make some space
For somewhere to eat bread and butter.

I could be making a hat from  knitting
One of the most relaxing times
I'll always be admitting

I could be in my living room singing
The neighbors ears and mine included
would start Ringing

I could be typing up poems for my book
To which moving to the computer
It's like I feel stuck

I want to do these things I really do.
It's so hard to understand why can't i do things other people can do