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Apr 2013
contrive to be the one
standing at the center
to be the one in the limelight
and high society gives you a warm welcome
with a practiced hand you
manipulate the air
to produce the wind
and it blows cold right thru my soul
and i know that i am no longer welcome
in the great halls
in the family's kitchens
in the fields of maidens

with a professional eye
line up the targets
to resemble me
and people think that its so charming
but i taste the poisons in your unseeing glances
i sense the malice in your every gesture

its in your shoe print
in the sand of some  woman's ****** shore
its in the words you scrawled on the headstones
of scared churches
laughing with filth in your dark soul
its in the deathbeds of the trail of victims
you have left behind every doomed road you travel

with a cage round your eye
you think to keep
your intent within
but it seeps clear like a river
of dirt and death
and falls to the silk ground
and curls there like a viper

i must flee you
because i see you
your no Prussian prince
your tyranny in the satin sheets
your a well trained assassin with a clean glove
covering the lepers touch underneath

i must flee
i must flee
...pain in  the tuckas
mark john junor
Written by
mark john junor  59/M
(59/M)   
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