You should have licked me
before the tar & feathers.
I wouldn't have dyed your
tongue black
or stained your eyelashes
a fence.
I can tell by the foot print
dance mat your staring at
that you aren't ready for a slow song.
So peace be with you.
The only sound the procession will
hear
when they slam the lid shut
on your wicker casket
is complacency.
Then your tears will whisper
"we have
spent her whole life trying
to escape. Let us
tell you her truth!"
But all the people
will be somewhere else,
forgetting how
much they didn't know about
you.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment