לא מאוזנת במיוחד. משועממת בעיקר. פתטית בהחלט.

I'm going through a dry spell,

And just when the weather grows colder.

It’s a mock-autumn this time

No rain to be seen,

The forecast mentioned an extra-wet

Winter, but my brain tends to disagree.

There are no more words to shed,

They can't accumulate

In my poorly constructed mind,

Leaking out with all those

Inspirational feelings I once harbored.

If my mind was ever a port

Then my ships are now nothing

But wreckage at the bottom

Of the dried ocean floor

Demystified at last, at the mercy

Of hungry explorers,

But even they won't set foot here.

The rain isn't coming.

I won't dance like a child

Between its murky first s

It's too late for the autumn

To salvage its honor,

And as for my mind-

No trickle would peel

The dust off its streets.