Feelings About Melbourne – The Poem

Consider this not a boast,
As it is in no way a toast:
When Melbourne has been my host,
Practically, every single day has been an incorrigible roast;
Taking the form of a crucible of endurance at times,
And a game of forbearance during others,
It has perpetually been a tribulation of the highest order;
Predictably, the veneers of satin on the surface,
Have cleverly shrouded the grime polluted with soot,
The polished exteriors,
Perfectly offsetting the grossly incongruous interiors;
Accept it or deny it,
This is probably the most belied bit,
And there is no way I can immune oneself from this pit,
Except maybe through persistent stabs,
Or through a stroke of genius;
Gratefully, these rare beacons of hope have shone,
More often than not,
And the just deserts have been served,
To the individuals who indeed deserved.