A Treatise on the Social Dynamics of a World Without Peanut Butter

I am the housefly
Knocking my head against the same mirror all day.
I do not write metaphoric poems.

As a mole cannot see
And like a rattlesnake does not fly,
I cannot use similes in my poems.

My pen shouts at me to stop spilling his ink
As my paper wishes me an eternity of stale jello
Because I shouldn't try to write using personification.

I've realized ten thousand times
And tried once more than that to work against it,
But hyperboles really aren't my style.

I am simply a squirrel
Looking for lost acorns that I never buried.
I just can't seem to write metaphoric poetry.

The review button is lonely. Will you be its friend?