Heís a pretender to the throne a usurper, a fool he thinks we do not notice but were just playing it cool heís a slippery, slimy guy and we all hate his guts we wish that he would die because he is driving us all nuts his horrible laugh, his greasy hair he thinks he knows it all when he sits down in that chair he drives us up the wall he walks with a limp but its just for show he ainít no pimp and he just wonít go.
Excellent poem. The fact that you didn't give him a name made the reader search for someone to fit the description. I know ~I~ found someone. It is so generalized and flexible... I'm adding it to my library so I can look at it a few months down the road and see if someone else comes to mind. Either way, very original! ~Allan
Welcome to Planet Earth, where the angels tread on the land. ~~Allan, to Amanda.
The sunshine hears you not. Speak to the shadows he creates.