My friend -

When I first met you
You were passionate,
Brimming with ambition,
Fueled by your desire.

To become the greatest poet,
Of all time.

Now I see you
Mired in mares milk,
Debasing yourself
For some horse-ish power.
Coercing the unpalatable
On all who cross your path
In a form confected oppression.

How did such passion,
Get replaced by obsession?
How does ambition,
Turn into dairy debalces?
When did your desire,
Become lactic lechery?

So please,
Quit galloping in pursuit
Of this made up Mare.
This endeavor has gone sour,
End these milken mistakes.

You do not need mares milk,
When your words can sate us.
Ingratiate all -

Give us the the poet again.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Miraman, in the year 867 AF.