A Letter To Anarchy

Dearest anarchy there's nothing sweeter than your sharp tongue in my ear. The hatred that I once revelled in, Taking the form of fear A lie that nothing dreadful Could suppose could be a trap, A terror, Poetry to hurtful minds. A lonesome slap. She never saw it coming did she? Her soul was yours to play with long before She hit that floor That day, that night, that summer Not a moment more. She ran did she not? Before you did something else, She fled the scene Breadcrumbs leading the way Back home. At last.