My Slough of Despair
OK, of course you’re right; I should not be airing,
discussing, talking about, or loudly blaring
the many complaints I’ve been silently bearing.
But it is my intention to do some baring
of my countless gripes and hope that you are caring
enough not to act as though you are chairing
the meeting and pounding your gavel and daring
me to risk your wrath by going on. Am I erring?
Please listen to the saga of how I’m faring,
without disgusted looks or your temper flairing.
The injustices I will relate are glaring.
Please, in all of this there is not one red herring;
pay heed and you’ll find all these peeves are impairing
my functionality function. Overbearing,
that’s what they have become. They’re in need of paring,
although, I think they would rather do some pairing
of a reproductive kind. They seem to be raring
to multiply, behaving lewdly, staring
provocatively. And you know that is scaring
me. It is driving me mad, and I am tearing
my hair out. This narration will be unsparing,
and will no doubt leave you extremely uncaring.
In fact, I’m finding this whole thing is just wearing
me down. And if I don’t stop, I’ll soon start swearing.
Then again, a foul tongue helps when I’m declaring,
“Woe is me,” while doing my very best at snaring
others’sympathy. But your disgust is glaring,
and poor, sad, unhappy me, I am despairing.