Standing there like the emperor who’s convinced he wears a beautiful cloak,
Your cloth is of your own making, not pretty in any form
Revulsion and sickness rise together , while you grin insanely, inanely
Finding the jokes in your head funny
Except they’re not, you’re not
Grown up children are irritating, at least the ones who think they amuse
My feelings are deadened
The practicality takes over again
No it’s not the first time, not the last time I sigh
For once my head and heart speak together
As I wash away the foul, false cloth
I tell myself it’s a covering, to remove it
Or I’d surely hate you now
Head and heart whisper again, then shout
What to do I ask myself?
Anger builds like a tidal wave wiping away any pity, feelings
If I do not escape I will drown with you
Ailsa
©Ailsa Cawley Poetry 2015
ailsacawley 