Little Miss Misery
A scion marked from Old Lizzies Hand
Collar trim, with an axe potent grand
Butcher sister, to Mrs Kotche’s intellect
Calculate the sums of the souls she collects,
Dear misery, your charade is an annulled
Vacate to the dirt, from the dump where you crawled
I tried to be negotiable but you never let me in
No pacifist’s consideration for your reptilian skin
There’s no smile for that girl,
Troubled Lizard with hair fizzled
Wears T-shirts and sweat pants
To show that she’s not that
Reclines in her chair, with an esteemed heir
Corpulent paranoid, when her retina’s not there
Charades equality for camaraderie
Though it’s full of bull diplomacy
Liberalisms Pravda shoes
to keep her fascist soles clean
Plays the punk chick with finesse
though she’s a Victoriana niece
Behind every red Guevara, is jackboot in marked in lead
Please Mint her cyanide to clear the cobwebs in her head
Waved the white flag and she crucified me
Gave a solemn reprieve to my free munificence
And shot me with that look as if I were a dollar crook
Who had stolen a china doll or maybe took her sea shell
That she traded as a child in a game of show and tell
With the cousin who fouled Her Innocents for jezebels
And turned the page of requiems to the road of desolation
Reserved a dagger for those who dared to challenge her convections
Days are the weights,
to the girl who’s a stone
An anchor, from a banker
who’s assigned a bad loan
From times jurisprudence
that makes gallows seem fair
When you’re tied to the clocks
Near those you with rotten stairs
For Several weeks our paths crosses
against the will of my intuitive trust
As I stood in the back, into the far away corner
Never uttering a remark
and as silent as a sea lark
Until the day had come
With False confidence renewed
When I drew down my guard,
To line myself within the pact
[...] Read more
poem by Kevin Patrick
Added by Poetry Lover
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