This April Heat

Have you heard?
This heat just made a hit in my name.
For I can hear the gates of hades creak open
The world can never run out of sinners
Those who fan themselves with the lid of doom.
This season is not for planting seeds
I flinch each time April touches me
She’s hawt, she’s hawt! That’s why she burns
Many lessons to be learnt from August
Don’t you think the gods should be blamed?


Why blame the gods?
Since seasons sit in their hands
Let the times flow as they will
She’s hawt, she’s hawt! Yes she burns,
But when the colds come you wail again
Do not plant seeds in this season,
The soil conspires to fry them up,
They squeeze the life out of greens
And rain upon you a cloud of discomfort,
How often do you take cold baths on days like this?


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