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

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