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An Idle Enemy
White Out, you mock me;
You evil Fluid.
You remind me of my Faults,
And how I will never be free
Of my imperfections.
The Bumps you leave
Cause me to cringe,
Only after my lofty Pen
Runs across the Scars
You left in Remembrance,
Of my flawed Writing.
I dream of the day
When your accursed
Container drys,
solid.
Until then, I will allow
Your cynical Smirks
As you stain my Work,
And my ashy Hands.
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