Fool
I’ve got quite the appetite for mayhem
Thus from these desires my problems stem
Prozacidasical perhaps
Headfirst into Lady Luck’s slaps
Crumbling foot stools under my whim
Why if there be heart ache, I’ll have a bite
Just another serving of bittersweet spite
Bring on my many foolhearty excuses
Distilled crones, my destructive muses
Pluck from my sour patch mood, a pickled fight
Copyright © A.E. Rivenbark | Year Posted 2014
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