PoetrySad Poems


Just last week,
we started a discussion
about how only weak men
would find succor in harassing women.
With your claw-like hand to your chest,
you said with a singsong, “We men won’t, mehn!”
You threw caution to the air
and there, you shunned diss caution.

Just last night,
we heard a shriek
like the sound of a ship meeting its wreck.
You panted like a deer on its way
to the brook as you violently drew her pant out.
You wanted to draw from her fountain
with the claim that stolen water is sweet.
Your claw-like hands which won’t caress,
pressed her throat, the source of the shriek went down.
Her body became the carcass
which you wanted to greedily feed on.

Just last week,
you raised your high-pitched voice.
We forgot to notice that you are a vulture at night
and a canary, the tattletale at broad daylight.

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