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Poem

The Mouse

I am small and I do not matter. 
Only to those that care, 
if I live and breathe, 
but that is okay...
as they are all that matter too. 

The people in our lives, 
that come and go, 
some never say hello, 
or goodbye. 
They just leave, 
you know, 
exactly who you are. 

But as you pass, 
you cause grief, 
and even lie, 
just to give chaos 
a "chance to reign". 

Your voice will not be heard, 
above the din, 
of evil...
and things said 
wrong! 
It was not stronger, 
or louder, 
or more brutal, 
in any way, 
I have not already dealt with, 
and know now...
exactly how to handle. 

Hear me roar, 
as I am not underfoot, 
and there is no cage;
that can hold me. 
I am the lion, with small teeth, 
the tiger with sharp eyes, 
and I will soon...
find a weakness, 
I can exploit, 
until your boat, 
no longer holds water, 
even in the calm.

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