LaNgUaGe BlizZARd
Winter makes me wither
As if withering were harmful
As if speaking were a mouthful
So what? language blizzard.
Summer'd make me simmer
if I weren't that much thinner
But, as enjoyment leads to regret,
I hibernate like a lizard.
Autumn’s at the bottom
of the pail, but it matters
that pitter-patters
of rain aren't yet hail.
Spring is just too busy
And it makes my hair get frizzy
with humidity, as if it weren't
good for me, a relief
if we use more time and use less grief
No seasons become problems, whenever driven
to cry over time we're given.