Merit

I thought, at first, it was all about me that it was a poem you wanted me to see reading of the future, the past left behind once again, silly me, I was reading it blind I felt confused bout what you were saying just like always--the meaning you're displaying always straddling the fence--sitting in the middle the prose that is penned teeming with riddles the joke is on me, once again a fool deceived you sit there rocking and laughing up your sleeve I give credit where it's due and the poet has merit no matter who it is for, it's the way you prepare it