A Misfortune
In a special way, I search my every day.
I’m all cried out by justice I now scream.
I have much to say with my words I pray.
From reality to delusion, but yet a dream!
I tell you I am surely the crop of that cream.
Now I can stay or I can go on about my way.
You may reject me or accept me as supreme.
Every single day generates my hands at play.
Bottomed out or just plain downright silly,
I could care the least towards the very best.
Or, I can sit here and say OMG! Oh Really?
Maybe I should armor up in a cast-iron vest.
If only everyone already knew about their one golden frowned upon rule.
Perhaps a misfortune will shear a few jewels stopping the two timing dual.
Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment