Thursday, February 4, 2010

Insensitive


A feeling of sad
A feeling of mad
Maybe I am what I was, mad
If not, then so
I shall speak with flow
To no other man
Then the one I see in my front

As pale as a ghost
I see him staring back
Is there a reason for this happiness lack?
Are you vexed? Are you alright?
I ask and I plea to know the answer
For this man’s staring
I shall cause disaster
To put an expression on this one man’s face
But maybe first I should be introduced
That could be the case
I lay my hand out for him to grab and shake
He does the same, but does not take
So I put my hand to his
And say, “How do you do?”
“It is not the matter of how well I am, Sir.
For it all depends on you.
Are you well today?”

A small crooked smile is flashed to me
I try to pull my hand free
He holds on tight, locking his eyes with mine
“Well…” he says, “that’s fine.
You can pull and tug
But that won’t help”
He reaches to his back pocket
And pulls out a rope
“Now please don’t make this hard for us,
You know that in the end I’ll win the fuss”
I took the rope and secured it tight
Stepped on my chair
He whispered, “Goodnight”

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