Walking in with a swagger down the street, loaded with self importance
You carry yourself with the attitude of who shall bow to the mighty me today
I wonder momentarily if it’s just me whose skin shrivels at your touch
Like it’s trying to desperately escape being around you and your damp handshake
As you do that tie up over the pin striped suit you wear as armour of sorts
And begin asking questions that you’ve asked so many times before
I feel like answering a nonsense answer for my own amusement
Two words in and your eyes have drifted drunk on getting to the heart and core
Herein lies your fatal flaw as you possess of these neither
Just an empty cadaver that glides along you have become a bore
Ailsa
©Ailsa Cawley Poetry 2015
ailsacawley 