Upon reflection on a year gone by,
I notice that life is short and needs to fly.
As time dissipates in the fog of winter
Storms that flog your optimism into a pauper,
I lie back and wonder …
How do I make the following year better?
My goals are set for my self-improvement,
Where I wish to feel no bereavement.
Goals are so arbitrary, that, at times
They pull you down into hades.
As I set my goals: reducing my intrusive
Conversation and being more conservative
In my opinions, but only with certain
Peoples, who lack perception.
Another goal is to write more,
Submit more, and succeed more.
I believe the latter more feasible,
As the first requires me to be more biddable.
I hope to achieve a certain censorship
As not to come to hardship.