Putting her unadorned baggy white dress on
Leaving so much to the imagination that it hurt to even try to fantasize anything about her
And piling her hair up under her uninspiring hat
It gave the world the perfect vanilla picture she craved them to know
Nobody would expect the wildness contained therein until it was too late
Everything you do affects me negatively and yet
Now you have the nerve to just stand there in front of me trying to be innocent
Expecting me to forgive you of your many sins, so many of them against me
Maybe I should forgive you, something I should have learned in Sunday school
Yet I can’t do that, so that’s why I am going to throw out this mirror!
Many hands make the chore light
And that was his philosophy through life
Reaching out with his hands to help all those he could
Keeping to this up even as he passed, so many came to celebrate him, it made his passing easier.
Been doing all the things
Understand that means lots of naps
Some may say that she’s lazy
You would be wrong. Dreaming is hard work.
Looking at all the items that were on the page
It was enough to make her depressed
So, she pulled out her lighter and flicked the switch
The smoke was her peace offering with herself
He normally didn’t care about his reputation
Others could go screw themselves if they wanted to judge him
Now though, his whole world was flipped upside-down
On this day he had become a father
Responsible to this precious little girl…
Beating up her heart with blows of pure logic
Reality was there was no chance this was really love
Almost certainly it was just hormones and nothing more
It was a waste of time, and her resources were better used studying
Not that she could think of anything but the taste of his lips…
Certified purebred by the clothes that she wore
Rebel by the purple mohawk she sported
Everything about her was a contradiction
Still, there was no doubt she was her own person
The proprietary monogram she had as a name was proof of that
Chivalry seemed to be such an outdated idea
It meant treating everyone with respect
Vance always added “that they deserve” to the end of that phrase
It was the motto by which he lived his life
Leaving him the moral ground to do what he pleased, and he did so
Nighttime was when he was awake and alive
Observing his domain as he prowled the streets
Citizens were happily in their beds now
They were dreaming dreams of a light-filled world
Under which people like him were just fragments of lore
Real-world boogeymen who cleaned up society’s messes
Now that suited him just fine
As he enjoyed the peace and quiet of owning the blacktop
Lifting another trashcan, he deposited the contents in the back of the truck before moving on
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
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