You're so
abusive
lately,
temper
shortened,
fast-burn fuse
connected--
whatever happened
to that nervous
smile
and shy appeal;
where did
he go,
that boy
who needed
someone's
hand?
I bow my head
these days,
and call
you 'Master'--
it makes you happy,
I think. . .
but I can't stand
this laughter.
You strike me down--
the hands that
held
now choke
and tear;
why did
things change
like this,
that mocking monster
more than I
can
bear?
Where did it
vanish
to,
that tiny grin
you hid behind
your hand;
where did you hide
that charming
boy
who all the others
couldn't
stand?
I want to
see him
one more time
before
I break beneath
your heel;
I need to
see him
one last time
before
I lose my will
to feel--
would you just
prove that
he's still
real
beneath that
leering mask
that shatters me. . .
or is he no more
you,
but only
faded
'He'?
~(c)02-23-01 The Mad Poet (A.K.LaBelle)