A t**d, Gilded

A t**d, Gilded

A Poem by Stephen Norton

You aim for everest
With only the skill to cross a hill
You wait for gold
When silver is handed to you
You c**k your head, bewildered
Offended I'd reach out to you
A corpse sitting quietly
Ready to decay
Delay, postpone salutations
Till a ring would have no place to hang
Keep waiting on prince charming
No one wants the farmer
Every peasant girl is a princess
And every man is a pauper

© 2015 Stephen Norton


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Truly something to read. I was amazed by how you worded this. Great job!

Posted 9 Years Ago



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Added on November 28, 2015
Last Updated on November 28, 2015

Author

Stephen Norton
Stephen Norton

About
The Ravings of a cynical mastermind. more..

Writing
Dry Dry

A Poem by Stephen Norton