White blank pages, wars through the ages,
reminiscing the fallen but forgetting their faces.
Turning the blank page, only to amplify our rage,
living the dream; getting by on minimum wage.
Every day is a struggle, so we lacerate our morals,
no concern laid fourth, reflecting on our laurels.
Criticized on a subject that was laid upon the table,
choking on my pride only to find I was able.

Mis-lead interpretation, personified through false conclusion,
has un-wound my path, representing deluded illusion.
Approached by a stranger, as he clenched for my grasp,
soon I was awoken, and daunted of my past.

The man’s fragile nature, and disheveled presence,
only beckoned for the call of a cheap, lousy peasant.
Disentangling his mysteries, wasn’t on the agenda,
but allowing him hope, meant less chance of surrender.

Now I find myself here, far away from a throne,
sacrificing my living, and everything I own.
The poor, ragged peasant ceases to exist,
and to top it all off, Grandma’s knickers are in a twist.

So down I went, on both my knees,
closed my eyes and began to squeeze.
I couldn’t see anything, that was for sure,
but what happened next, well what a ****** *****.

The ***** old Grandma lay down on her bed,
took off her underwear, and this is what she said:
I’ve got a magic sixpence, will you come and give it a rub,
I’ve got hairy canary, and a belly full of flub.

Bewildered at this shocking scene, oh fast I did run,
only to be pulled by the neck, then up went her thumb.
“***** old Grandma, this just isn’t right”
“oh wind your ****** neck in son, I can’t believe you’re so tight!”

Grasping for air my lungs began to bulge,
I headed for the nearest exit, only to be told.
“Son, there’s one lesson to be learnt in life”
“Oh really, is there Grandma?”
“Yes”, she said. “That is ******* right.”