What is there left to dislike?
Thus uninspiration takes its toll,
bigger and better than the last time,
before shoving baby beneath the bathwater.
Winter disrobes slowly,
revealing a slightly less ghastly sight
than we had thought.
Circumstance chimes insistently.
Much dancing and feasting is required.
Tongue-tied, I’ve learned to let each word
fall where it may.
Six times a day I check my reflection
for signs of rejuvenation,
though to my immense dismay,
it’s looking as withered and destitute as ever.
Maybe if we took a vacuum to the ruins,
tidied up a bit, some long lost radiance
could be recovered.
Bold of you to assume
there was ever radiance to be lost.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 