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Admit it
You’re not Mr. Hot,
Mr. Sly.
You slink and slither
Down a path all of glitter
But it’s not
As it seems
Isn’t that so?
You make silver seem like platinum
And brass seem like gold
It’s getting old
And the tarnish
Killed the shine
Find a corner
And go dwell there
For your work
It is done here
Because I know
And you know
That you’re a phony
An authentic
Bona fide
Fraud
I will write an expose
On you another day
But for now
This letter
Does the trick
It makes me feel on high
And I hope it makes you cry
So long
And if you don’t mind
I’ll watch you slink away
© 2003 Brooke S.
1 comment:
Until I got down to the bottom and saw the copyright date, I thought this was about a certain political figure that has been hyped lately... It sure would be fitting for him. :) Nice job.
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