| Written: AUG 9, 2003 |
I am a mischievous little imp:
Ever with the dark darts for eyes,
The arrogant, cocky, and loud voice,
Laced deep in sarcastic entrancements.
Unwanted by all in these foul pool eyes,
Yet lusted for secretly, for company and wit.
Bitterness resounds within all my made sounds,
Unworthy of myself, too far gone to anything but sit.
Yielding sloth, refuse to rise up and gain free my denial,
To parade myself to betterment, to conform to their ways.
A smooth angular face, elfin in wear and youthful the same,
Shameless it smiles and taunts others, or stern stares inwards.
Nothing there is does find, or it cares not for the treasures within,
Surely the scantily clad boy finds whispers from the smooth devil tongue,
Pierced with uncovering lies and charisma of a jester, dancing inside foolish.
Mature words of failure gained wisdoms haunt this manhood in progress, cocooning;
Cloaking his person in darkest thoughts, wanting it to be over, to end in opaque oblivion.
Yet remain the boy soiled by time, history repeats itself and all those loved taken or gone.
I am an evil little mischievous imp;
And sadly, I’ll not go away.
