Bliss holds no prisoners, nor is bliss all
that captivating. “Free your heart. Beside
The whispering willow,” meadowlarks sighed.
What’s more beautiful than colors in Fall?
Nothing better than sweet, sordid leaves.
No disaster in sight. We’ve remained sage
During the Red Fall. But who are we now?
There’s nothing worse than tragic empires.
Flowing throughout my veins like a real drug.,
Hugs make for confessions in times like these.
Free honest diplomats and fulfill needs
Elsewise, the Sun sets on the once wise hug.
Cultural shift to kindness.,, We’ve begun
To repent for not-our-fault misfortunes.