Shoemaker short poem

Photo by dontworryjohn

People appreciate your work when you die.
Or they praise with grudging admiration.
So my words make them envy, before I say goodbye,
I might as well burn them alive.
I cut box and add excit to ing,
Inexplicable, take a moment to savvy
How I make boring poetry exciting.
Now when it’s dark, I’m lightning.
Who paid visit when I was wrestling
In pain, they were busy watching soccer games.
While I was bleeding verses from my veins.
I’m born Royce in the midst of eight hundreds,
Jealous toys know, but can’t admit.
So they want me dead instead.
I keep telling them, this meth is immortal.
One man’s drug to another is fatal.
You don’t respect my legacy,
But respect is magma, lava will surface someday.
Deliberately you wait,
May be you will honor, after I decay.
Till then, all you have to offer is hate.
In self-pity, no tear drops but within you’ll cry.
True Requiem will balance your lies.
You are looking for a shoe of right size.
When you can’t even appreciate the Shoemaker
Right before your eyes.

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1 Comment on "Shoemaker"

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Zahra A.

Beautiful write