Alas! My poetic career has died. Upon its completion I did indeed send my declaration of deepest desire for publication, only to be scorned for its “imbecilic grammatical structure, hackneyed phrasing and theme, and simplistic arrangement.” I see it so clearly now. Its inconsistent rhythmic scheme and weak stanzas mock me. That the expression of my “love” must languish in the styleless confines of so pallid a poem rends the very fabric of my sanity! No, I cannot look upon it any longer; it must be banished forever from memory. It must never, ever return!