Derelict |
| by Jeremy Addison |
I am a derelict of no compassion;
Cast me staring where eyes are ashen.
Steely gaze on reflective faces-
Bore your bodies through their paces.
I'll think my thought, but give you naught
And never show my graces.
Show me the bait, and I will slander-
Show me your task and I'll meander.
Never my daylight will infuse it,
Tarnish my mask; forsake, misuse it.
I am a derelict with no concession-
Full fare paid to my obsession.
Never give in, but standing firm,
Hold you tight while trying to squirm.
I'll take your savings, pass your ravings
And never cut the term.
Without the odds, you're panic smitten-
Once twice shy, and always bitten.
Darkness is your first prelude;
Followed by the lightness' crude.
I am a derelict of third degree-
The bad, the worse, forlorn and ugly.
You stand in line and hear me mutter;
With laryngitis screaming from my gutter.
Backward talk, my lonely walk,
And sympathy refrained; no utter.
There would be ease to shoot my spine-
The Hatter's party- all cups are mine.
One day I may converse a season,
But nothing repeats without a reason.
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