Right under your nose
There it was
As pretty as luck
would have it,
I was looking around
the room
And there it was
On top of the mattress,
How can I fasid
The mind of the bastard
Who’s opinion has often
Re mastered,
Beliefs of old
With current event
Trickle effecting daggers,
Drunk
With a stagger,
That is often confused
For some type of swagger,
But even with
encouragement
I can still
Hardly handle,
This panic attack
That more often
Times than not
wants to dismantle,
The ego
That gets
Even badder,
With every conquest
And every lasso,
Hoping
That someone will listen
And pray
To knock down the
My inner towers
Of babel,
Causing
This competition
Making
My heart tired
And Even sadder,
With Love
Farther
And
Further
Away
My soul
It battles,
But love
No matter
How mistreated
Bruised And battered,
Heals
On its own
With ignorance
For a clone
And other crazy
semantics!
