Was watching Young Musician of the Year and they showed a clip wherein, at school, one of the contestants was asked to come up with four lines of iambic pentameter. I thought I'd have a go, and apparently ended up with this, which strikes me as rather a Saturday afternoon sentiment in any case.

I feel a need to obfuscate my cause,
and seek distraction for it's own good sake;
How heavy hangs the will of those old bores
refusing, out of habit - too sedate.

I wasn't in the mood for blank verse, so I opted for a quatrain. It's conspicuously less than orignal I l know.