April is the cruelest month,
My friend Eliot once said
I can feel him rolling in his grave
As I borrow the words that came from his head;
But never have I ever despised any other month,
The ides of March is incomparably easy compared to April
Where the world can't determine if it's alive or dead
When the sun is shining one moment and then it's gone as an old friend
And I, the weakest of the bunch
I make the most mistakes
In the month of April
I tend to lose my head
I tend to lose myself
In a binge
Of one or the other
Whiskey or thighs
To keep up with the weather
And it all is toxic
As it all is fleeting
Once May comes around
It will be leaving
If I only make it through this month
This month I deem the plague
If I only make it with my chin up
And unafraid
And just say OK
As the water hits my knees
And just smile
As it creeps to to my neck
As I dive in to the month
That once held your death
To survive 30 days of malevolence
I've made up in my head
To celebrate the anniversary
Or the loss of a dear friend