Spite in your face


This is how it happens. Little chunks at a time, pecked away to save face. Flecks of self-worth and confidence scraped off and discarded until it’s all bare and barren, and you’re quiet and non-obtrusive. “Quiet and non-obtrusive”; Small, feeble and useless. Until you lash-out and lose it and push away the hand out to help you up. Then you’re fucked-cause you’re fucked up and you fucked up and now you’ll never get it right. Right? -right. ..right. No, I’ll never get it “right”. Now isn’t that a sight, the side-wing broken lecture on a moral compass sight? Now now, take back, roll back, tape that, edit in, Double time and splice. Spin it with a grinning chin, you can air it all tonight. That’s right, that’s right!: “She’s ceded us this fight!” She’d rather come round beaten down, than suffer effort’s plight.-But to that, it get’s my back-and my hackles up: Incites, my mind to rage against a cage in which gilt is aged and peeling rhetoric is trite.YES; I’m tired and I’m restless, quite often have been bested, I lost the race, the crown, the war, and now I’ve been divested. But I’ve saved the last for best-it’s… A surprise for those invested in downing falls and falling down and innocence arrested. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, and if I hang on any longer; I’ll fight the world for all my days and count the time unsquandered.


About Keats

Oh I'm sassy and I'm sexy, So silly sweet-and-sour Delightfully disastrous And deliciously dour I'm flippantly foolish, Filled I am with fear Can't concentrate completely, and my conduct isn't clear But to bravely be my best I Bring bravado back, BEHOLD!

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