This tumultuous sliver of sky
breathes easier than I do
at this ghastly hour.
Take each and every flower
from the vase and encase them
in mucous, if you don’t mind.
Or if you do…
I used to be content, tucked away
in my rucksack paradigm.
Time makes great asses
out of everyone, doesn’t it?
The way it passes with a sneer,
cheering us on through the worst
of mistakes. Not that this matters,
but the quakes which casually
disrupt my trains of thought
are becoming bolder.
So much for being older and wiser.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 
Great poetry