Monday 16 July 2018

The Wild Card



With lack of manners or respect
His mother thought him cute and sweet
“He doesn’t mean to be so mean”
She saw no wrong in his conceit
And as he grew in self assertion
Convinced he was the perfect choice
Became the louder mouth of those like him
Infatuated with his voice
With little time for playing any rules
Grabbed lion shares without remorse
Not doubting personal éminence grise
This double-dealing tour de force 
Centered by his sense of flawlessness
He wildly slid the downward drop
To drown in gloom of history’s doom
At Nemesis Railway Station stop

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