You Know Who You Are...... Poem by Sue Stone

Do not start with me;
you will not win!
If I could dip
the edge of my pen
in your blood,
you would read this red.

I have no need
to poke you
in the eye
with a blunt stick.
I can dissect you
with my pen.

I'm no shrinking violet
when it comes to
pouring on the vitriol.
I'll turn, hidden agenda,
as you wither on the vine

No dithering on
which seventh, deadly
sin I will choose.
You crossed me.
Wrath wins;
hands down

No platitudinal,
sacrificial offering
of pretence that
I will not invest
my emotional energy
in you.

Like the little girl,
with the little curl
bang, smack there
in the middle
of her forehead.
I choose to be horrid

You offend me,
with your pompous
gait and puffed up
chicken chest
and clip
….bored

Your absolute belief
in the sanctity
of your own
self importance.
This smiling assassin
will caress your delusion.

And if ever you
should be so brave
as to lean forward
and whisper,
conspiratorially,
hesitantly,

‘That poem;
it wasn't about
me, was it? '
I shall smile,
with all the
sweetness I can muster

And murmur,

‘Why, of course'