These days I wonder how much more,
aggression I can stand,
what mischief has this life in store,
to dash the dreams I planned.
These labours I cannot complete,
carve gargoyles in my soul.
They line the ring roads I repeat,
and watch me carry coal.
These lies I’d like to leave behind,
too buttered to disprove,
replaying in a tortured mind,
to cut a deeper groove.
These broken bones won’t be reset,
they keep me stuck in place.
I carry wounds I can’t forget,
behind a threadbare face.
what a word genius ….”behind a threadbare face.”
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Right – that’s it – I am quitting poetry. Cos compliments don’t get any better than that! All downhill from here!
Thank you Susan 🙂
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You’re welcome, Mr. Doubtpuppet.
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No, Susan, please.
There’s no need for Mr. !
Call me Emperor Doubtpuppet.
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Emperor Doubtpuppet, you’ve done it again! Excellent!
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HA ha ha – thank you Mermaid! I can’t believe you called me Emperor. And completely unprompted too. I feel like Napoleon. Or a butterfly.
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