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Smooth operators
There’s a demon on my shoulder,
clipping toenails into my ear
An angel on the other,
nibbles wax so I can hear
He makes balm for my lips,
lights candles once a year
Both play devil’s advocate;
God knows they’re insincere?
Their words are quite pointed,
but sharper when being blunt?
My ears burn like hell
as rumours exchange every month
This tug-of-war’s relentless,
pulling strings to win my soul
If i’m nothing special;
why fight tooth and nail for control?
Lately they’ve switched shoulders,
maybe it’s to explore
Candles burn less often,
not on birthdays like before
Toenails fall unchecked,
my balm-less lips crack and swell
One day I’m living in heaven;
the next feels like bloody hell
This war is wearing me down
I can’t do wrong for right
My hair feels thinner,
no surprise from this endless fight
Searching for bald spots in the mirror
sheds light on their attack:
Those grifters do Brazilians
and pedicures behind my back.
By
David Kavanagh
Copyright ©
David Kavanagh
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