^{by Annette Gagliardi}

You wear your existential angst like a new frock in May
And look with distain on those who cast a glance your way.

What do the common people know of your singular despair?
You sip the tea of discontent as you stubbornly wonder where

The next wound of insult will appear.
Take brooding offense at slightest tone,

For in this world you alone
Suffer the slings and arrows of unbearable ignorance.

And never once look upon the world with contentment,
Ne’r see the joy in a single leaf nor the delight of a petal’s glory.

For if a positive thought should enter in
How would you tell your story?