It's me. I'm back.
Again.
So wack.
I know, I feel.
The Bull.
I squeal.
Redundant, Yes.
This Time.
My Stress.
My Life, rings empty.
My Heart.
It's Limping.
I'm Here, I've returned.
Familiar.
So, I've Learned.
Nothing New.
Not for me.
Noth this year.
Not for you.
Take this.
Wrap.
I take this, crap.
It happens.
Annually.
Must handle.
Manually.
Tangible?
No.
Make it.
Then,
Burry it into the snow.

Tiana Tucker

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/winter-143/