Not so finished...


Weary and worn,
A thin existence,
I tried to revive the days you seemed alive,
But your chest has been vacant since I was a child,
I couldn’t change your despondency.
Cool and uncaring,
You fail to surprise,
With your acrimonious lines,
A speech thick with denigration,
Is this the man that’s meant to shape me?
What could I learn, instruction in revile?
Ensphered by insular certitude…