Like a red-eyed scavenger you
devoured my thoughts one by one.
You sometimes sit with
predatory hands, waiting to snatch any
word that can be used against me.
You hear me but you never listen,
for that would take too much effort.
You are not what I always thought you were.
No, you are just one of the rubber gloved elite,
an aging debutante peering at the faded portraits
through your own weathered prism.
Copyright © Julian Gallo | Year Posted 2005
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