There are no ports in a storm,
Betrayal is an everyday norm.
Friend or foe, family or beau,
All can be sure to stoop that low.
Lies become truth for a quiet life,
And when discovered, tears are rife.
Sister and brother, father and mother,
To protect their interests, God they’ll smother.
There is not one that one can trust,
Honesty be damned and fidelity cussed.
They kill themselves for a cup of tea,
But yet from a head cold they do flee.
Murdered by the telly in front of which they sit,
Sucking at its doctrine as at their mother’s tit.
Warrior Princess
No comments:
Post a Comment