What are you expecting?
I hope it’s not perfection.
Perfection avoids me.
Just like normalcy.
My sanity, projects it.
So who am I fooling?
The supplanter came riding
In on his horse.
Supplanting, and planting,
Didn’t anyone notice?
BiC has lost grip.
Something’s about to rip.
When it does.
Would you please spare me?
Tame the tongue.
While still young.
Try as you might.
Putting up quite a fight.
The supplanter has come to plant the seed.
Dig up the weeds, with disease.
Then feed me with your love and care.
Do I dare to dream, for Jen the Fair?