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.