I've had it up to the final line on my
"Shit I Can Tolerate" measuring cup.
Frustration fills it like a faulty faucet
fixed above a drainless sink.
When push comes to shove,
it shatters to transparent reflections of its makers.
In the sun it will helplessly shine,
and spitefully blind the dimmer mirrors.
Hell,
when push comes to shovel,
you'll be in the landfill.
No comments:
Post a Comment