Friday, March 9, 2012

Glib

The glib of tongue
High ends strung
Well-packaged junk
Refurnished dung

The unsupposing fool
Listens and drools
Falls into a pool
And tendrils pulled

Gasps for breaths
All entrapped
The fool pleads--
Ready is a wreath
For even the gods grief
What a fool to belief


No comments:

Post a Comment