The Paino Played, and So Did I
We are not welcome here...
So fly away in your own little world,
good riddance. I've had enough
of bartering with pain for pain,
and flowers, in praxis, exhaling
the breathing of lies, to
fill the room like a lawyer's stench,
and 'Hear ye, Hear ye- I've got some news
from my side of the bench', there's a cry
of accusation: 'he lost a woman,
that never loved him, barely knew
her too', the prosecution stifles a laugh-
"well that should make it all okay!
Perhaps I can sugarcoat
my disapproval with the loss of some
precious ruby that I could have had,
Ohhhhh the gem should've been mine,
but I was too much of a coward
to steal happiness,
in pearls that were my eyes,
cried out when I left home
to work, and heard my father preach:
How'd ya like them apples?"
and I'm appalled, because I just
wanted to write a ****ing poem...
not stand trial to a sentence
of the mind, against injustice,
but what is just
a poem
that can never stand alone, or
a man.
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