I heard it whispered on the wind
I saw the telling in the trees
That you were seen bent over bins
And in the shadows on your knees
Behind the cinema were you worked
No class remained, no honour lurked.
Then you came back home to me
Slipped into bed, so gingerly
Your arse was sore
Your pants were wet
There on the floor
I see them yet.
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Author:
Jabberwocky (
Offline) - Published: September 30th, 2018 02:44
- Comment from author about the poem: Just exorcising some demons. There! Its gone now.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 65
Offline)
Comments1
Strong write. May those demons be expunged forever.
Thanks Goldfinch.
A bit of a savage demon this one.
Thanks as always 🙂
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