Friday, November 16, 2018


This is the season of my discontent.
Lying in the cold, wondering where the summer went...
Was there not a spring? 
Has Autumn all been spent?
You'll have to grant me pardon now if I seem discontent.

This is the worst of times, when better times have gone,
deserting me and hurting me, leaving me alone.
Did I give offense?
Pray! Say! Tell! what I did so wrong,
to incur the wrath of colder times, when better times have gone?

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