Is it so archaic that I’m the one to blame?
Parking in the basement, basically in shame
Of my bargain lunch box that holds a shriveled bun
And in that bun a hot dog, a holiday undone
Its like a queen’s old bishop in a game of chess
You may call this fiction, a myth no more or less
But here I am a witness to unlikely coping skills
A candidate not winning, a shelf with no more pills.
It curbs my enthusiasm and makes my poor head ache
To live my life on this scale, I wish I had a break.
So now I sit and eat here, wanting no one else to see
That all this really is now is a pity show for me. 

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

• https://fivedotoh.com/2022/07/18/fowc-with-fandango-basically/
• https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2022/07/18/three-things-challenge-m28/
• https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2022/07/18/wordle-279/
• https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2022/07/18/candidate/
• https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2022/07/18/your-daily-word-prompt-shrivel-ydwordprompt-july-18-2022/
• https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2022/07/18/rdp-monday-head/