By Tony DeLorger © 2011
Impaled upon my cutting words,
revenged I am from wanton slurs.
I bleed profuse my waste incurred,
and suffer by my hand.
Too quick to judge and open be,
with no defence or pretension see.
My glass house sits and I inside,
proffer not from my disguise.
For I am not that slanderous fool,
who sometimes deems to ridicule.
Only to be cut down and pay the price,
of self-importance and plain denial.
Knee-jerk response is hardly fair,
when consideration is hardly there.
In penance I’ll try to be more civil,
and shut my mouth, try not to dribble.
For at my age I should know better,
than spite my feelings and attack another.
Maybe I’m just a cranky old bastard,
who needs a spanking and to think much faster.
In conclusion I will zip it up,
and just look for all the half-filled cups.
Try not to be so contentious,
And play nice with others, and mend my fences.
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