The PhatBoy1 | Page 18

My Lady, Poetry

Poetry is a soft

spoken woman

holding a revolver

She will either

embrace or

exterminate

you will attempt to

undermine Her

authority

you will beg

for Her forgiveness

She is a

timeless beauty

clothe Her in the

appropriate vernacular

and they will

notice Her elegant

mannerisms

the calendar’s digits

will not affect Her

reverence

Her vintage handbag

holds the secrets of

the past, and next

time She’ll pull out

Her silencer