Insidious thief would rape your thought
A foolish knave a voice does steal
To twist the
words he cannot feel?
Think he it be his rightful due
To filch what
dull self cannot construe?
When no authentic muse has led
To seize from
another is fine instead?
Without ability to feel his own
He’ll take what
someone else has known.
That intelligence is not his in fact
He makes apparent
in this heinous act.
Emotions, laughter, heartbreak, sorrow
Perhaps he’ll
knock at your door tomorrow.
To take the pictures your life would weave
Claim them for
his own and leave.
Posing haughty as advanced pedant
with wisdom
hollow, weak and scant.
Garner kudos, praise, and prizes dim
None of them
belong to him
Such arrogance and disrespect bespeak
A hollow, empty,
thoughtless sneak.
Now I’ve said my piece to you . . .
He’ll probably
come and take this too!
Comments
Post a Comment