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.
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2018
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