"At my bitter wits' end,"
was her mutter.
"Both of them?"
facetiously, I did utter.
"I'm beside myself,"
emotionally, she cried.
"A split personality,"
jokingly, I replied.
"No, I am but one,
and all tangled up I've become,"
instantly, her rebuff.
"At a loose end then?"
I questioned, off the cuff.
"Tied up in knots, more like it,"
in distress, her response.
"Prepared, like a Boy Scout, I'll be your undoing,"
I observed, feigning nonchalance,
"Give the word, and then, who knows,"
hopeful, I had half a chance,
she heard me suggestively propose.
You shirk the weight of parenthood's call,
leaving your children to wither, unfed.
Are you a father, or mere specter of one?
A mother, or just a shadow that's gone?
While others nurture, educate, and guide,
you abandon your own to fate's tide.
Your concern lies with outsiders, it seems,
while your kin suffer, and your legacy beams.
The children you forsook, the partner you left,
will rise to greatness, despite the neglect.
Will you claim pride in their future fame?
Seek praise for years of absence, and hollow claims?
Awaken to your duties, and seize the day,
for the future beckons, and will not stray.
magnolia is ruffled, delicate, pretty like lace
her fuchsia petals and fragrance showing off
accenting her Georgia ladylike charm
she has difficulty feigning humility
knowing what a beauty she is
sassy smirk scrunched
spanking salient sucks
smog smithereen scorched
sorting saucy sauce
savvy strengths spent
savaging sumptuous sects
dark dribbles drooled
damping dainty doom
dense dug douche
moaning mist melted
meager mends masticated
merging mushy murky
felon fate features
feigning fabulous fractures.
'20:03:31:18:29
Note: Dedicated to poets all over the world.
pretending you didn't see
oblivious truths
painful and too deep
as your heart turned the corner
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