Winter Rain

i would like to write a psalm made of salt dedicated to whomever Lot’s Wife really was.

for people cannot be made of perfection

and people cannot be made to never hold grudges. what if

we try to sleep in over break

because there's nothing left to do until December anyways

and it won't really work because dawn always opens my blinds

and their cat gets the zoomies at 6 but

i always feel pressured into

being grateful for the biggest things i can

which to me always sounds like i'm shouting for forgiveness

instead of gratitude. i never get to say i'm grateful