Even if I'm neglected;
As long as you're happy;
I won't get affected.
As long as I can love you;
I will be contented.
As long as I can look after you like this;
I can be your fake protagonist.

He cried like rain
And screamed like thunder

And I

I was a quiet river deafened by his storms

The journalist stated,
' this story has mileage and could
run and run'

The editor replied
' why drive your car without tyres
when all you're doing is gouging
the roads and ruining your rims
and car in the process'

The journalist answered
' let's call it poetry then'

The Editor intoned drily,
'its unsubstantiated, unverified
sources dubious, very dubious.
No, call it fiction and go find a publisher
and another job'