Tuesday, April 28, 2015

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight, Poem Twenty-Three


Staged

No swans
will flock
to mic
sing you off.

Quit when
die pretty
fucking stupid

No one
say so
only say
told you so

Want to
strangle self
with hand
you shake with

Diplomacy
always wins
because always
kills you.

All with their way
know what it does
why they want.

No sir
in surrender
no command
in compromise.

Your place
in placebo
fold hands in
chair in error.

How is one
leader when
no one
wants first.

How does
one leave
if no one
here.


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