SS (16th November 1965 / West Germany)

You Know Who You Are......

Do not start with me;
you will not win!
If I could dip
the edge of my pen
in your blood,
you would read this red.

I have no need
to poke you
in the eye
with a blunt stick.
I can dissect you
with my pen.

I'm no shrinking violet
when it comes to
pouring on the vitriol.
I'll turn, hidden agenda,
as you wither on the vine

No dithering on
which seventh, deadly
sin I will choose.
You crossed me.
Wrath wins;
hands down

No platitudinal,
sacrificial offering
of pretence that
I will not invest
my emotional energy
in you.

Like the little girl,
with the little curl
bang, smack there
in the middle
of her forehead.
I choose to be horrid

You offend me,
with your pompous
gait and puffed up
chicken chest
and clip

Your absolute belief
in the sanctity
of your own
self importance.
This smiling assassin
will caress your delusion.

And if ever you
should be so brave
as to lean forward
and whisper,

‘That poem;
it wasn't about
me, was it? '
I shall smile,
with all the
sweetness I can muster

And murmur,

‘Why, of course'

User Rating: 4,7 / 5 ( 3 votes ) 7

Comments (7)

Grand piece of artwork.
Ha, ha, ha... Sue I loved this... all the way to the sly end.
Wow, I absolutely LOVE it! ! ! ! ! ! But the ending HAS to be my favourite part of the whole thing. AMAZING! H&K's Jessica (: <33
LOVE it, LOVE it, LOVE it! You go, girl! just give it to her! And what a magnificently satisfying ambiguous last line! That just clinched it!
great poem, i loved it! :)
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