Scrap

As summer starts to swiftly leave
beyond all hope of spring’s reprieve
an autumn shudder lends a hint
of winter’s unforgiving stint—

auspicious omens can’t predict
what deviation will be picked
to flourish for another blink
while former failures face the brink.

The epochs come then glumly go,
stagnation tends to settle slow,
the seasons change, but just in name
the struggle always stays the same.