Francesca Bossert

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SHENANIGANS LOST

I hoped to exhume my shenanigans

To exude nothing but sparkling wheeee!

I hoped to upbeat myself

In time,

To be at the least,

Generically fine,

Maybe add a dash of late afternoon dazzle

By abiding to my rules

Nap, food, fresh air.

I tried to skedaddle my bone-aching fatigue,

Gloss over my bleh.

Epic fail.

The familiar nervous hum squirms my discomfort.

Funless, defeated,

I curl up in my shell.