Just a Rock

It’s a rock. That’s plain to see.
It looks like a rock to you and me.
It’s made of stone. It’s grey and lumpy.
It isn’t special. It makes me grumpy.
I was told by my teacher to write a story.
Sadly, the task was mandatory.
I went outside and grabbed a stone,
And took a picture with my phone.
It’s not funny. It’s not sad.
It’s not amusing. It’s just so bland.
I hate this rock. It’s so damn dumb.
I want to flick it with my thumb.
But I must write. The poem must end.
This writing style I must befriend.
It must stop. I’m getting bored.
I’d rather be in a hospital ward.
I’d rather write about a sock,
But instead, I’m stuck with this dumb rock.