Spare Me Your Disgust
I suggest, no, implore, spare me your disgust
When I am being my self … my imperfect self,
For even the finest iron has been known to rust
When exposed to the elements it must adjust
Like the perturbed perfectionist beside himself
I suggest, no, implore, spare me your disgust.
For some elements, unlike iron, will combust,
Perhaps when aggravated, not left on a shelf
For even the finest iron has been known to rust.
Your disgust signifies to me your utter distrust
Like some oft-abused, imaginary, holiday elf
I suggest, no, implore, spare me your disgust.
Is it that you covet some talent? If you must,
I have none … not even a meagre stash of pelf
For even the finest iron has been known to rust.
I feel the anguishing pangs of unrequited lust
While seeking metaphors alone by myself;
I suggest, no, implore, spare me your disgust
For even the finest iron has been known to rust.
written February 8, 2022
Copyright © L Milton Hankins | Year Posted 2022
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