Low Barometer

You’ve bored me
Made me headachy

Your hostility
Posing as humid tranquility

Asking here anonymously
What everyone else, unafraid to make themselves known
Already knows

But I answer thee
I’m still fit to garden and be poetry
Though you’ve pained me

A pain in my ass, a pain in my joints
Merely temporarily

Creeping, wrinkled, you’ll continue
Pettily

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