Fools gold…

Itching with the crawl through tin cans,
I found you in an unexpected place,
My poison didn’t spread to them,
The twisted mouth said it would,
Ingested regret from what if,
My inside out didn’t seep through your pores,
Waterproof but not airtight,
A stratagem towards them to collect my sapience,
The hesitancy as the thick thoughts congealed,
Cut the prior with a knife,
It’ll be fine with some glue.

Reviews

[Red Brick Keshner]

Makes one wonder what sort of glue that would be! Many a thought elicited by this poem.