Saboteur

I'm that house behind yours with the lawn which
Always should be mowed, the one with shutters
Flapping and a chimney dangerously skewed.
I'm the dog that tips your can, and eats the pizza
That you didn't. I'm that kid from down the street
Who doesn't fit his siblings' clothes and wears
His breakfast on his face. I am disorder. I am
All that you believe should suffer shame, but I
Do not. I carry on defiantly, and smirk. I hate
Your hope of order, and your haughtiness toward
Me. I see discomfort on your face, as you see
Grits and cheese on mine, and I rejoice. Your money
Cannot set you free from me.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 109 times
Written on 2019-10-01 at 02:15

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