I thought I knew you in the heat
of the night and poetry,
you tried to get it right in
trite and the familial.
Failed dive,
but you won,
a disaster of what I do well,
happy face in tight smile,
beat me down in submission
and I say, thank you sir,
your grace ... I submit.
Tucked away in stones
and mansions. I'm done...
had some fun, raised a tribe...
and now in disaster of what
I thought I could do so well,
glass was broken, I bled...
Unconvinced that it was
my fault; I succumbed to
your verbiage...
I got patina in the coppering,
blue in a hatred pure,
a delete in the present
is all you needed to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment