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Lines About An Acquaintance
The squared wheel whines and turns
among the drooping stems of dessicated ferns.
Hey, diddle-diddle, old "WoeIsMe"
has come, like arthritus, back;
lamenting, with pointed consistency,
of all that he believes he must lack;
subjecting his soul to self-imposed attack.
Perhaps he ought to be
a little more busily
engaged to tighten his life's loose slack,
where then telling his agony
upon his own emotions' torture rack---
described in those rants he calls "poetry."
He never has much more to say
than how bad, how hurt, he feels today.
Starward
