A Weak Pule

A Weak Pule

To querulously cry, incited by pain;
Left to mind what others may gain.
A roundabout way of saying nothing,
To cower and avoid another drubbing.
The weak of mind are left to roam
A planet many miles away from home.
Collect the tolls and smile in spite;
The passersby are feeling all but trite.
A cold hard look can squelch a cry;
Be sure your day will come, by and by.

Posted In: Poems

{ 0 comments… add one }

Next post:

Previous post: