Reading Stoic_Slaughter's journal

The previous post was for clarification...thanks for supplying it. (That's sarcasm, by the way.)

Today...
Today was interesting, I suppose. As interesting as it could've been for a mediocre day. I wrote a poem in algebra, but I can't remember it; I actually think I threw it away. I did, however, discover a sonnet in the depths of my bag from some months ago. It's lacking in flow, but it's interesting.

Oh winter, how I long for thee!
And yet I must bear summer's wrath.
Your bitter voice is sweet to me,
and lovely is your frozen path.
The summer sun will strangle me;
such loathing I cannot explain.
For all around, humidity,
and not a single drop of rain?
Oh how I miss the chilling snow,
as all the living goes to rest.
A season cunning as a crow,
beloved winter knows me best.
So prove that you deserve my praise,
and rip me from my summer days.

In other words, I really detest summer; ergo I'm downright giddy that it's over. My mother is going to make me get off so I can clean the ceiling with a broom. Her intelligence astounds me. (More sarcasm)

For my next trick, I shall make you all disappear.