Hang in there. National Poetry Month and the terrible poetry is almost over. Just one more week after this.
My Soul’s Meat Vehicle
Sometimes I think I’m just stardust
With delusions of grandeur
Living a whole life
That I made no plan for
That I’m nothing more than mediocre
A dull, used old soul
Inhabiting a blob of skin
That does little to keep out the cold
Most times, though, I feel rather bold
And insist on my space
My spirit roars into the room
Scattering folks with haste
It’s true, I am not to everyone’s taste
The gallons I get to the mile
How I customized my ride
They can’t dig my outward style
Just like them, I here for a while
Stardust looking for a miracle
Cruising along with the top down
In my soul’s meat vehicle
Kiki Writes About... 
I vote that you keep posting poems whenever you want. I like these.
Thank you! I appreciate that.