I'm not trending.
Have I lost my touch?
Has the flock departed my
exodus for greener pastures
or mountain testaments?
Do the rhymes not carry
the meaning like they used to,
like sailing ships in the steel ages?
I let the winds take me anyways,
take my life and scatter
syllable seedlings across the sites
of battles just old enough where
the ghosts are getting tired.
Maybe I need a touch of comedy?
A critique would be appreciated,
dear reader.
By the way, we made some mistakes
in the last issue you had with us.
On page seven, we established the fact
that I was confident. This was
proven false with a report card report
mailed to us by the fine folks in blue at the
Teacher's Union.
On page nineteen, there was a photo
made of words that sounded like
love song lyrics.
That romance is currently defunct and we
apologize to any soldiers and shippers who
attempted to invade that lost region
on the life map.
Page twenty-three had a mistake,
the byline citing a girl who died
inside.
Our apologies for installing her name on
the neon sign and reminding you all
of the casualties of existing in the first place.
Finally, there was an absence of malice
in the letter from the editor on the back cover,
his eulogizing of his overdosed career
hardly harsh enough a reprimand for
someone who will never listen.
Thank you for your understanding of
this, even if the rest is a mess.