This poem was written in a form that its author invented.

I’m not in the mood for it.

Maybe it’s good. Too much hidden meaning for my mind today, though.

I knew that before I read it, and I read it anyway.

Sometimes, you do have to listen to how you feel.

Not always. Maybe not even often. But that’s what irritates me so much about it. You have to know when you can and cannot.

Anyway, the poem.

Meh.