Lewis Raynes Poet Quatrain

The Poor Little Me Routine

She put out the “Poor little me” routine, 
Mining empathy from other folks hearts,
She played the pity play most of the day, 
Pity playing with crafted remarks,

About being ill when ill was nowhere near true, 
Spinning those tales of woe,
Hooking the desire of people to care, 
Then reeling these people in slow,

And her charm cut with clinical prowess, 
She charmed with each little word,
Entertaining herself at others expense, 
Watching all of their good being burned,

But time never slowed exposing her life, 
Her deceptive, emotionless game,
Time exposed her lack of remorse, 
Exposing her words, her life, her shame.

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Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart March 20, 2018 at 9:15 PM Lewis, I love how you do that. You open your dark characters like the peeling skins of an onion replete with the sting. Good stuff. Lewis Raynes March 20, 2018 at 9:25 PM Hi Maureen, thank you so much for this comment, cheered me up :)