Printers’ ink upon a page,
A story written to bring me down,
A whisper round the gallery of noise,
Of the devastation,
The ruin of girls and boys.
Against the press I write,
To stand like a tyrant,
With a cooler mind and heart,
A calm descends and apologisers appear,
I smile with satisfaction.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 5:43 AM UTC
Printers’ ink upon a page,
A story written to bring me down,
A whisper round the gallery of noise,
Of the devastation,
The ruin of girls and boys.
Against the press I write,
To stand like a tyrant,
With a cooler mind and heart,
A calm descends and apologisers appear,
I smile with satisfaction.
written in 2008
Request permission to use this poem