Emperors disaster

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 Cawley Poetry 2015