Fleeing From Festus

At Festus I no longer wave. 
I should save a not–safe image. 
At all persons Festus would rave, 
With this triggering plain outrage…

Last cause of Festus’ Anger “Dave”,
For which he called the Poor Guy “Slave”
“The best roof over Dave’s Head ‘Cave’s,”
The scene he’d keep frequenting ‘Grave’s…

Now; I am often on the run,
Mingling with Festus ‘poorest fun’…
Who knows? Tomorrow, a shot-gun
And the deed as good as ‘just done.’

Anita, Stanley and Poor Me 
Festus won’t allow to feel free.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace