Mythical hero of never

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 Cawley Poetry 2015


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