On November 11, 2011
I tried to say this for days
but those words never departed.
They never put the foot
on your doorstep.
So, should I accept the challenge,
endure pocket-size excess
and follow my inherent aptitude?
From one side it's a jabbing end
apart from the decency,
and from another
pain
bible-poking Job
putting out only a fail.
Can you cash me out
to meet the requirements for the hell?
You wouldn't need to thank me
and you'll be very welcomed.
If you're still in doubt,
I'm your succinic perplex
that emboldens your mind
and gives you a long-long night
in the crooked way.
It's my true color of the poltroon
who rather trash all aspects
of the tenderness
and has the nerve to eat up
more than deserves.
At the fairy end, here comes the trouble
and strife:
the little mess I would put you at
wouldn't harm your health.
