top of page

Life, a Mountebank?

I turned the other cheek again.

I turned the other cheek, and then,

A man stepped up and slapped my face.

I turned and walked away again,

I turned and walked away, and then,

He stepped inside and mugged my place.

I turned and looked around again.

I turned and looked around, and then,

You both had gone without a trace.

I turned and closed my eyes again,

I turned and closed my eyes, and then,

Death strolled up and stole my space.

1 view0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

George Orwell 1903-1950

Young man. E. A. Blair. Literary genius An uncommon flair. Each page, inspired, His soul laid bare, Dystopia pondered From his polished wooden chair. He wrote of men Who lived without a prayer, P.S. B


Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page