Long day, frustrated.
Words jumbled like a swarm of ants
not considered so beautiful to read
do they even resonate with anyone?
wondering whether I should concede?
Perhaps ignorant of the pulse of the masses
Perhaps their taste as fickle as the breeze
Perhaps their sensitivities change with the weather
but sadly it's people I've been unable to please
Sure, envy burns inside of me like acid
that I cannot even construct a tale
while there are other stories floating around
I'm flummoxed as to why I've failed